#soulmatism so strong that it appears on every universe

[dazachi]

Chuuya can understand Dazai so well because his mind is actually similar to Dazai's.

These two understand each other the most. They "hate" the other because they can see hints of themselves in each other. It is why they are convinced in the other's humanity when they question it on themselves. It's why they don't do much talking and yet arrive to the same conclusions. It's why they work so well. They're different in so many aspects on the surface, but deep inside, they know it's like looking in the mirror.

They don't have to agree, but they do understand the thought process BECAUSE they've thought of it before.

They probably rarely had to talk beyond short arguments because they don't need to talk to know what the other is thinking. They always agree at times when it mattered the most.

"Soulmates" is the only possible definition for these two because there's no better way to describe them.

[enam3l]

rockstar eddie munson does halloween

I hit 100 followers which to me is crazy so to celebrate here is a special rockstar eddie halloween head-canons! thank you so much and i hope you have the best halloween

you can read all rockstar eddie munson stories and lore including Halloween pt 2 at #enamels rockstar eddie

Every year without fail, a Halloween party is held at Steve's house. It started in 87 and has been going strong ever since

You knew you were truly in love with Eddie once you spent your first Halloween together and saw how excited he was for it, how his eyes were lit up from at least 2 weeks before the 31st. You knew his friends and he was desperate to bring you to their big Halloween bash

The gang knew you and Eddie were endgame when he said he was bringing you to the Halloween party

Eddie was pretty sure he was in love with you but he knew you were his soulmate when you walked on him making extravagant decorations for the party and left just to come back with more supplies. You both spent the next 48 hours covered in PVA glue, glitter and fake spiderwebs

Eddie is pretty sure his heart stopped beating when you nervously asked him if you wanted to do a couples costume and suggested Aragorn and Arwen

You arrived together at Steve's the day before the party to set up the decorations you'd both crafted. Because he lived on his own and just in an apartment, Eddie never bothered to decorate his own place. Before he can stop himself as you're hanging a skeleton from the ceiling he blurts out 'I can't wait until we have our own home to decorate'

As Eddie panics and tries to work out how he can undo what he said, you look to him with a big grin and say 'We'll have one to decorate by next year.' The second you were home from Steve's you went looking for apartments, giddy you'd both finally admitted you wanted to live together

After getting married the pair of you decided it was time to move on from the apartment you got together and get a house in the hopes of starting a family. Eddie had of coursed argued getting a house meant you'd now have an attic to cram even more spooky paper mache creations

The perks of a house meant you could now decorate the outside and one of Eddie's proudest achievements was realising people were travelling just to see your home at Halloween. He'd sit by the front window, ecstatic as he watched people approach the house and seeing their reactions. He loved how children would look as if they'd stepped into a portal to another world. You loved seeing people appreciate how creative your husband was and how he was bringing years of his DnD universes to life

As the group got older and began to have children, Steve's parties continued. They now just started earlier for the kids who ran riot around a huge bonfire the men would put together. Once the kids were in bed, you all continued to party like you were teenagers again

And of course yours and Eddie's couples costumes continued even to the present day. Over the years you'd now been Edward Scissorhands and Kim, Gomez and Morticia and Jon Snow and Daenerys

Admittedly there were a few costumes you'd bought that never made it out the bedroom. Jessica Rabbit and Catwoman for example were banned by Eddie as he admitted he couldn't behave in public with you dressed like that

The worst part about Halloween was that Eddie returned to his most feral teenage boy self and attempted to live off a diet of candy. You wish you could say you've never had to replace your kids trick or treating sweets because your husband ate them all... but you had... multiple times

With your first baby you were around 4 months pregnant when Halloween came around. Eddie insisted on painting your small bump that had recently appeared as a pumpkin. And whenever he answered the door to trick or treaters he began to tear up at the children just thinking about how he'd have his own to take out this time next year

That year for Steve's you'd joked you could go as Alien and have a little alien ripping out your tshirt over your bump. Eddie did not find this funny. He refused to speak to you for several hours but continued to talk to the bump and apologise for its mother's behaviour

Before your first child (a little girl) was born, Eddie had already collected a variety of costumes for her. She was only 6 months old for her first Halloween but Eddie took her in her pram with Steve's nuggets so she could still have her first taste of trick or treating. That year the two of you brought back your Aragorn and Arwen costume but now gave your daughter and oversized ring so she could be a very cute Gollum

Once you had your second child you did the Addams Family. You as Morticia, Eddie as Gomez, your daughter as Wednesday and your new daughter as Pugsley. Dustin was a very willing Uncle Fester

Eddie's Halloween antics have become infamous today. Your kids mobbed online for requests of the decorations and yours and Eddie's couples costume each year

Oh, and he's still made you keep the Jessica Rabbit costume just incase

my requests are open as always! let me know what more rockstar eddie stuff you want or just anything else!

[skeleton-mischief]

Y/N who can see Dust!Sans papyrus. Papyrus, aiming to fix Dusts loneliness, lures her to him. (This can take place in a bad sans trio universe where dust just hops AU’s for funsies)

Ohohoho I appreciate the specifics, it helps me with knowing what you want. This'll be fun :-]‼️💥

Be warned, my silly ass actually has a fun interpretation for Papyrus when it comes to Dust and him. And for the sake of some plot hole answers, I'll give you a little treat when it comes to soulmates being involved. So, hopefully you'll like this take on it!

Hm. Something is wrong, very wrong. Where is he? Where is he where is he where is he where- no. no. This is normal. Paps always had a strange way of disappearing occasionally. His magic must be low, he hasn't dusted anyone in awhile. He has Saint and Killer, which keeps him company at least. Sure, Killer is a pain in the ass, but it's better than being alone. It's not like he needed to constantly hear his brother scolding him, but he feels a little emptier now. That's a whole part of his soul. One speck of his dust leaving his soul is a rare occurrence, a rare one indeed. Pap wouldn't use this to disappear somewhere though, right?

...

Where the fuck is he? It's getting awfully more uncomfortable for him when it's time to sleep, he can't focus on anything other than him. His one true companion, the one last remains of his own universe. For fucks sake he's been even confronted by Nightmare about what has been bothering him. Saint knows. Of course he does. Saint can tell that the absence of-...someone is affecting him. It's not like Paps doesn't appear every now and again, when his magic is strong. It's a small perk for his brother, especially since Dust is usually the only one who can see him. Killer asked him about his brother too, but he couldn't stop himself from walking off when he did.

Where is he? Why has he been gone for so long? Why? Why why why why why wh-

.....

He wants him to come back.

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Lately, you've been having strange dreams. Or... hallucinations?? It always happens at night, and you swear that it's not a normal thing for you to see a floating skull talking to you. Papyrus was his name. Ah- yes. That's a name that you haven't heard before, but it's pleasant. He's pleasant. Right now, he is talking to you about what used to be his favorite hobbies.

"Truly, I actually never could master how to cook spaghetti! It's not like it's my favorite food- that's dinosaur oatmeal- but everyone else likes it!! I always ruined it, but somehow my brother would eat it-"

"Brother?" You chipped in, interrupting his ramblings. He didn't seem to mind, his empty eye sockets seemed to somehow gleam when you asked. You were sitting up in bed, and he floated across from you with his gloved hands moving theatrically as he waved away an invisible line of thought. His mandibles opened as he grinned. He always had such a charming yet slightly off-putting smile.

"Yes, of course!! He's my older brother. He's still alive, actually! He goes by a different name nowadays, and he's...changed over time. But-!" Papyrus' skull leaned forward, his hands leaving a strange cold sensation that felt like icy air embracing your hands. You don't know why your chest made a strange feeling bubble up. "He's still a very kind skeleton. I wish you could meet him," He finished, his voice slightly softening from his usual boisterous tone. You smiled at this, tilting your head to the side as you humoured this idea. You wanted to know more about this skeleton and his apparent brother, but it's not like you didn't believe him. It's just that a part of you still clung onto the idea that you just happen to be having multiple strange dreams of the same skeleton with different conversations.

"Yeah? Well...what is he like? How much has he apparently changed?" You inquired, which seemed to cause Papyrus to hesitate. "Ah-...well. He used to be laid-back, happy. I remember how he happened to be quite popular and loved by others, with his charm and all. I found it irritating when he would prank me, spew nothing but lame puns, but nowadays I-....I miss those times. He's more...-"

One gloved hand waved slightly, as if he was trying to conjure up a description.

"Reserved now. He struggles with taking care of himself and connecting with others. He did something really...bad, a long time ago. He hasn't been the same sense, and sometimes it worries me. I think that someone like you could get through to him though!" "Why's that?"

Papyrus didn't answer quickly, and you didn't miss the slight spark of delight in his eyes. "I can just tell." He quipped, the hand that hasn't held yours now placed atop your head. If you were honest, it felt more physically present than before, as if his body started to solidify some more as his appearance becomes less hazy. "You're a good person, I think he needs someone to show him some of the good in things."

You felt your tongue click behind your teeth, a huff of laughter escaping your parted lips. Your ears tingled slightly, his words leaving your chest quivering for a moment as your grip became looser. "Well, thank you Papyrus," You let go of his ghostly hand after not saying anything for a minute, before you leaned back against the safety of your pillows. You rolled over on your side but still facing him as he adjusted himself to the side of the bed. "I haven't...I haven't heard someone tell me that in a long time." You finally settled on saying. Your eyes were hazy, and it seemed to click for Papyrus that you didn't want to explore that part of the conversation any longer.

He also noted the way your soul hummed through your ribcage, a special sight only he could see without complications. Who would've thought that you were his brother's soulmate? It was such a pleasant find, an accidental incident that not even Dust noticed. Thankfully, he caught it, saw the glowing of your soul from so far away. You were truly someone he found delightful to be around, and he knows that Dust would think the same thing, even if he would be stubborn about it at first.

He patted your head as your eyes started to close, his voice now a whisper. "Well, I'm glad that I was able to share my thoughts with you. Get some rest now, okay? I'll be back tomorrow, if that's alright with you?" "Mnh...yeah, that sounds...that sounds nice. Thank you again, Papyrus....Goodnight..."

"Goodnight,"

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"Where have you been?!?" Dust couldn't help but shout, his hands gripping onto Papyrus' scarf and aggressively twisting it around. He had been collecting LV to try and get Papyrus back, only for him to now show up after a few weeks. "Do you know how confused I was? Worried?"

Papyrus didn't answer immediately, instead tapping his fingers against where his arms would be if he had any. Right now, he was still mostly transparent. He wasn't the only one though, with how Dust was trembling as his voice cracked slightly. He always fidgeted with his scarf when nervous. "I was spending time with a friend!!" He claimed with conviction. "A friend?" "Yes! And I think you'd love to meet them!"

Dust couldn't believe what he was hearing. A friend? From so far away? He was traveling multiple timelines, AU's, all to find Paps. And yet apparently that's where he has been this whole time? With a friend? He tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows squished together. He quickly tried to look indifferent, or at least more mad than he actually was. Papyrus wasn't falling for it though, he never did. "How did you even meet someone?" "Simple: I met them when I decided to travel back to where our timeline would be!" Papyrus was quick to dismiss, but Dust only frowned further.

"Why would I even want to? For one, we're always traveling, Pap. We're told not to get attached to anyone, you know this." Dust tried to rationalize, pacing now in his room as his hands kept fidgeting with the scarf. He's now resorted to pacing because he has too much on his mind, but he feels a cold touch to his head and it pulls him back momentarily. Papyrus has now drained some energy from Dust, his physical form more solid, visible to him.

"Brother. Please, I am aware. But trust me, this is for your own good. I really think that you simply must meet them, at least once." Dust felt Papyrus placing his other hand on his shoulder, his upper body slightly bent down to be more at eye level. Papyrus knows what will happen if Dust does meet you, but he wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. With the years passing of living with Sans, with who he is now, he's learned how to speak to him. He's no longer the easily swayed skeleton who would do anything on a whim. But, Papyrus isn't the same either.

"...Please?"

"....Pap,"

"....Do they really mean this much to you?"

"Sans."

Dust winced at the name.

"Yes, they do. I really think you'll like them."

"...Fine, fine."

Dust felt the cold touch of Papyrus when he wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight with a giddy laugh. "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! YOU WON'T REGRET IT!"

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Regret is not the right word he would use. No, regret would imply that he wishes that he never met you or something along those lines. No, he just wishes that he didn't meet you at this point in time when he's who he is now. When he entered an old timeline of his, he found that his soul felt instantly off. Not a bad feeling per say, but more...calm? He's never been too calm ever since the human fell all those years ago. But as his brother spoke, a white noise at the moment, he felt that he couldn't focus. His attention was pulled somewhere else, but Papyrus was able to help him with this.

You were prettier than he expected, but of course he couldn't say anything when you were at the moment losing your shit. Papyrus told him to teleport, a big mistake honestly since he's never been here, but Papyrus has. Papyrus, however, is not of this physical world. So when he teleported, guess what?? He fell straight from the ceiling, mid air. Thanks Papyrus, you're so much help. You had so gracefully been awake already, but you were in a separate room. You had run straight from the bathroom, your hair disheveled and your toothbrush hanging sideways from your opened jaw.

Sadly he couldn't admire you for too long before he had a toothbrush flung straight at his face and directly messing with his vision. Papyrus had to immediately drain him of his magic in order to become more translucent of reflected light and full bodied. Heourgh, he felt less energetic immediately, but at least the floor was quite comfortable. He didn't bother straightening up, not if it meant you'd throw something else at him. It's not a great first greeting with his soulmate, he'd apologize if he wasn't so tired. Papyrus was right, he would like you.

His soul was pumping, singing practically as he was able to feel the wavelengths of your soul. You didn't seem to fully notice, but he did. He noticed since his soul felt calmer, happier, and much more....in love? What a strange feeling, his soul is so used to the LV he has, the motivation, the constant distress and guilt. He's never felt so light, but maybe that's because he's lightheaded from teleporting and falling. You seemed to be calming down since Papyrus was there and easing your panic. Thank the stars he's here. He wishes he met you sooner, or maybe in a different timeline where he was...normal. Would the others accept this? Would they be considered your soulmates too? He's never been great at sharing. He doesn't want to drag you in the multiverse mess that is his life, but leaving you alone after this isn't an option.

Stars above you were so pretty. Your voice sounds like the pluck of strings tied to a harp, or a guitar. Filled with emotion, a world of thoughts and history behind them. He hopes you'll like him too. He doesn't want to be scary to you, but he knows that he is. He could be less mean? Maybe you like things that he likes, he can like things you like. He can try to be better if it means you won't find him scary, if you can trust him. Right now you were coming over to him, apologizing but clearly weary. Hey, at least you weren't dumb enough to get too close, he is a stranger after all.

He is so happy that his brother convinced him to meet you. Yeah, regret isn't the word he'd use. It's just going to be complicated. That's okay, he can wait, patience is a skill on his part. Even if things don't work because you don't end up liking him, he at least met you. This quiet in your presence has been so pleasant, still as a pond and soothing. He's thankful for at least this moment of tranquility deep within his soul. His brother already told him your name, but he doesn't want to be weird.

"...The name is Dust, I didn't mean to fall in your bedroom. Not a great introduction, huh?"

Oh would you look at that, he was talking! He doesn't do that often. He is suddenly insecure about the rasp in his voice. You don't seem to mind though, and in fact you smile. Oh wow. Your smile. You seem less scared, that's great. He'd do anything to keep that smile on your lips, anything at all... Too bad he passes out before you can respond. Great job, Dust.

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Closing Notes: This took forever to type but I think I'm happy with it! I was busy, and a little unsure of how I wanted to type this. I hope you like this, vamp, you're so cool and this was fun. Don't be shy to ask for more stuff! I just wanted to write you a little more plot since you asked such a specific request for a skeleton hehe. Thank you :-)

[hecoxthirst]

Title: Ivy and forget-me-nots

For @lilac-hecox

Rating: General audiences

Tags: Alternative universe, soulmates, tattoos/birthmarks, angst, fluff, happy ending, fan art.

Summary: Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist, that changes over time. This is the story of Ian and Anthony's relationship told through those changes.

Read on AO3

♡ ♡ ♡

Everyone in the world is born with a little bud drawn on their inner wrist.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

It looks like a tattoo, but it’s more like a birthmark, and it changes over time. The style of it and even what real life plant it resembles is not the same for everyone.

When Ian first meets Anthony, he’s just a kid. He hasn’t put much thought into his mark, yet. He knows it will start to change when he meets his soulmate. He is excited to notice the first changes after only knowing him for a few weeks.

He can’t stop looking at it. From the base of his wrist, long thin stems have begun to grow. Small buds open up over time, revealing tiny, pale blue flowers.

“Looks like forget-me-nots.” His mother casually comments. He blushes and pulls down his sleeve, like any prepubescent kid would do when confronted about their crush.

Ian feels lucky to feel such a strong bond with his soulmate already. And they met so young too! This is great. It means they’ll get to spend the rest of their lives, the majority of their lives, together. Some aren’t as lucky and only get to see their mark bloom much later in life, spending their young years wondering if their soulmate is actually out there somewhere.

He has no doubt it’s Anthony.

Twisting vines have started to sprout from his wrist, and the first leaves appeared when Ian agreed to stay overnight so they can work on Anthony’s website.

Anthony always dreamed about meeting his soulmate in the most romantic circumstances possible. He had a whole romance movie in his head. He didn’t expect his mark to start growing after spending a day drawing swirly poops with flies around them, but he can’t be mad about it.

Something about Ian immediately caught his attention. It’s the way he laughs so easily at his jokes, and the way he’s so effortlessly funny, making Anthony laugh too. Plus, he’s really cute, which is a nice bonus.

Anthony knows soulmates can have complicated relationships, but he knows it’s even worse when people ‘settle’ for someone who isn’t their soulmate.

His mother never found hers. She married once, but it wasn’t the one. Things worked out in the end for their family, sure, but Anthony still can’t help but think that there’s gotta be someone out there who would be the perfect fit. He can’t help himself, he’s a romantic.

This is why he’s beyond excited to get to spend every second of every day with Ian. They are inseparable. Their respective parents already talk about how they make a cute couple, they have also become acquainted with each other knowing they will be in-laws eventually.

And Anthony believes this too. He is too young to do anything now, but he can’t wait to be old enough to propose.

Despite this, they don’t do anything explicitly romantic besides holding hands. Their bond is so strong. They are destined to be together, there’s no need to rush things.

Still, Anthony’s feelings grow stronger every day, just like the ivy climbing up his arm.

It’s hard to know if Ian feels the same, sometimes. But Anthony can’t doubt their love. He has to believe.

Finding your soulmate this young is actually pretty rare. 

Soon, most people just kinda know they found the one. It’s easy to tell, just looking at their marks. Not everyone knows they are each other’s soulmates, but most people who know them do.

They have their first kiss when they are fifteen.

Neither of them had the chance to date other people, so neither of them has experience with this stuff. Anthony asks Ian out on their first ‘official’ date - yes, Ian, it’s different than just hanging out! It’s- it’s just different, trust me.

They fumble awkwardly, bumping noses and not knowing what to do with their hands, but after a brief moment they both burst into giggles.

“Oh.”

“See, I told you it would be different.”

“Can we, uh…”

“Do it again?”

“Yeah.”

Anthony’s smile couldn’t be brighter. If he smiled any harder than this it would hurt. He cups Ian’s face this time, making sure to measure the distance so they won’t bump into each other or press too hard this time. He connects their lips softly, and he feels Ian tremble slightly.

This is the happiest he’s ever been.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

As years pass, their marks don’t change much, but they stay just as luxuriant. Ian’s with his pretty blue flowers and Anthony with his lush green leaves.

Life moves along, Smosh becomes something bigger than they had ever imagined, so much that it feels like a lot to handle on their own. So when a company approaches them with the idea of buying it from them, it sounds really appealing.

It’s great at first. They have a bigger budget than they have ever had, the production quality of their videos skyrockets, but… over time, it becomes clear that something’s not right.

There’s this fragile equilibrium. It’s a pendulum swinging, it’s a glass set on the edge of a counter, it’s a sword hanging over both of their heads.

As Anthony grows angrier and more resentful, the ivy on his skin turns into something uglier he can’t even recognize.

On Ian’s arm, tiny blue petals begin to fall, crowding around his wrist like a bracelet he can’t take off. One by one they fade, until all that’s left is these sad, dried up stems.

Every time Ian gets a glimpse of the thorny mess on Anthony’s wrist, his stomach churns. He tries as hard as he can to ignore it. There’s already so much going on, they have so many projects. He can’t afford to stop and think too hard about what this means.

He’s heard the stories and he’s seen the movies. It’s never a good sign when someone’s mark changes so much for the worse.

Anthony feels like he’s trapped. Smosh, this beautiful thing they created together, which represents their friendship and their shared sense of humor, is being turned into some kind of creature he doesn’t recognize, something that has a life of its own and he has no control over it anymore. He feels lost and hurt, and it only gets worse when he’s finally brave and broaches the subject to Ian.

Of course Ian won’t leave with him. Look at those withering, dry stems on his arm. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Anthony knows Ian stopped loving him a while ago.

With Anthony gone, Ian finds himself wearing a lot of long sleeved shirts. He’s tired of people assuming, or even worse, asking about his soulmate. He doesn’t want anyone to see what a sad, pathetic little thing his mark was reduced to.

All flowers fell long ago, and gradually those little stems are bending down, falling over, breaking. Soon, there’s nothing left. It’s like it was never even there. It almost looks like he doesn’t have a mark at all, which in a way is a relief.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

Years go by, and Ian never really stops missing Anthony, but the pain becomes more dull over time. He convinces himself that he doesn’t need, he doesn’t even want, a soulmate.

That is, until his friend brings it up. He avoids talking about Anthony when he can, but he trusts her enough to mention him, and she asks to see his mark.

He pulls away. He hasn’t shown it to anyone in years. But she’s gentle and he eventually gives in, offering his left arm to her. He can’t look at it. He knows what she will see. He feels her lift up his sleeve. When she says nothing, it bothers him enough to look at her to see her reaction.

She has this little smile on her face.

“What?” He asks, befuddled.

“Are you so sure you’re over him?”

He is confused. Until he sees her eyes dart downwards. He follows them until his own fall on his mark, and… his heart squeezes almost painfully. A small, pale, delicate flower has blossomed again after so long.

“Uh… that’s nothing. It doesn’t mean- I- I can’t.”

He panics, retreating his arm into his lap, hastily covering up his traitorous mark.

He’s been watching Anthony from afar. He can’t bring himself to watch through a single video, but he’s seen what his soulmate has been up to. He finally found his footing as a creator and he’s enjoying his success. Not just that, but he looks happier now. Happy, period.

Ian thinks ‘good for him’, but part of him can’t help but wonder. Is Anthony happier without him? Is he finally completely over him?

Anthony never hid his mark, unlike Ian. But over time it’s become harder to see it clearly, since he decided to hide it with tattoos. Or, at least that’s how Ian interprets it. He’s sure they have a significance or whatever.

Even so, Ian saw people speculate online. He saw the screenshots. He tries to stay away from that stuff, he blocked his name wherever he could so he wouldn’t have to see people’s comments about it, but even so… it’s inescapable. He stared at the green leaves amongst the thorns and the ink. He hadn’t seen a single leaf on Anthony’s skin in years.

He can’t help the little ember of hope burning in his chest. Maybe that’s why his own mark changed. Whatever he used to feel for Anthony was never truly gone, it’s just… it became harder to see what was so good about their relationship when everything else surrounding it was such a complete mess. But now, with distance, both physical and temporal… it’s easier to see it again.

So when his friend suggests he should reach out… it doesn’t feel completely insane to consider.

They meet - on purpose, with the intention of being in each other’s presence - for the first time since Anthony left.

They are not alone, they brought friends so they’ll have some kind of buffer between them. The idea of being alone with him is overwhelming. Ian doesn’t think he could handle it.

But it goes well. It’s a little awkward, but only for the first few minutes. They are both surprised to find it’s so easy to pick things up where they left them back when they could still call each other friends.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

They have been hanging out semi-regularly on their own for a while now. Ian can’t believe he is about to say this, but nothing has ever felt so right.

He chooses to be brave. If Anthony turns him down, at least he can say he tried.

“This is gonna sound crazy, so bear with me. It’s been on my mind for a while, uh… what if- what if we bought Smosh?”

Before he’s even done talking, Anthony jumps to his feet, unable to contain his excitement.

“Dude, you beat me to it, I was about to say-” he proceeds to go on a rant about everything they could do if they had their old channel back, and it’s clear that he’s put thought into this, it’s not the first time it crosses his mind. Ian can only sit there and listen, and watch him talk animatedly, with fondness blossoming in his heart, and awe painted on his face.

That’s it. There’s the man he fell for, that’s his soulmate he knew. He’s back.

Despite this, he won’t let his hopes up. They can be friends again. It doesn’t mean they are ready to be romantic soulmates again, not so soon, or maybe ever.

They meet at Ian’s house to attempt writing a sketch for the first time in… god, too long. He wonders if they still have it. He hopes so, but he wouldn’t be too shocked if it turns out they’ve changed too much.

They spend hours on this, almost forgetting this is supposed to be work. They are just having so much fun, laughing so hard their sides hurt. It feels like they are little kids again.

By the end, Ian is pretty satisfied with what they created.

Before leaving, Anthony turns to Ian. Ian can’t stop smiling, he’s giddy like he hasn’t been since he was a teen with a crush. To be fair, Anthony isn’t faring much better.

Anthony reaches for Ian’s left arm. Ian rolled up his sleeves without thinking. He is already gulping at the realization that Anthony probably saw his single blue flower, and the thought of what he’ll think about it.

Anthony’s eyes drag along his arm, watching in silent awe. Ian glances down and his eyes widen.

His mark has fully bloomed again over the span of a single afternoon. He hadn’t even noticed, he’s astonished. He knew his mark was sprouting new buds, but he didn’t think they’d all bloom at once so quickly.

“I’ve never seen it like this.” Anthony comments, almost breathless.

“Me neither.”

Anthony smiles at him at the admission. Ian takes one of the hands holding his wrist and turns it over so he can take a look at Anthony’s. He has a feeling, but if he’s wrong he’ll deal with it like an adult.

But whatever he was expecting wasn’t as wonderful as what he actually sees. There’s none of the tangled thorns. In their place, now beautiful ivy sprouts at his wrist and climbs all the way up his arm to his elbow, twisting around his arm.

When Ian glances up, he notices him blushing faintly.

“Yours grew so much in one day too?”

“No…” Anthony chuckles, shyly ducking his head. “It’s been growing for a while, but it’s even more lush after today.”

“Oh.”

He almost can’t believe this. All this time he thought his hope was unfounded and his feelings weren't reciprocated, at least not in full, but it’s impossible to deny now. The proof is a living, growing thing on Anthony’s skin.

“I’m sorry I interpreted it the wrong way,” Anthony says, once again taking Ian’s hands in his own. “It took me years to understand that it didn’t mean your love was gone, just that your feelings were complicated. Mine were too, I should have known.”

Ian is taken aback by the sincerity, but he gets a hold of himself and shakes his head.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I mean, I looked at yours and I thought it meant you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.” Anthony looks hurt by the mere insinuation, “I was just so angry, because I felt like we were losing control of something that used to be ours, and I needed you to stand by me, and you didn’t. I’m not blaming you, I understand why you couldn’t! But it hurt at the time. And… for a long time, after.”

Anthony squeezes his hands lightly. He can’t believe they are talking about this. He never thought they would talk again at all, let alone have such an earnest and heartfelt conversation. He missed Ian so fucking much, part of him still can’t believe he’s here right now.

“I know that now,” Ian says, “But seeing your ivy turn into that bramble… it was scary. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to say that that part of you is scary, you had a right to be upset–”

Anthony cuts him off, “I get it, it’s okay.” He smiles gently at him, so fondly, Ian almost melts. “Let’s not let our marks speak for us anymore, okay? Let’s use our words.”

Ian smiles back, blushing a bit.

“Yeah… good call.”

He looks away because he can’t stand to hold his gaze, and instead he takes in the beautiful forget-me-nots that now take up a large part of his forearm.

“Man, that’s gonna be hard to hide.” He chuckles. Anthony stays silent, so he looks up and immediately he realizes his mistake. “Not because I want to hide it! I just– sorry. Force of habit. I was hiding it for so long to avoid questions. I, uh…” It’s hard to admit. He feels pathetic, but he knows he’s safe to admit it to Anthony now. “I didn’t want people to pity me.”

Anthony lets go of his hands. Ian begins to panic, but soon he finds he has no reason to because one of Anthony’s hands goes to cup his face instead.

“If you would rather keep it private, I understand. Our bond is none of anyone’s business.”

“What about yours? That looks even harder to hide.”

Anthony shrugs. “I’ll wear long sleeves.”

Ian is so touched. He shakes his head.

“There’s no need to. I’d like people to see it.” He cracks a teasing smile, “You didn’t hide it back then it was at its worst, why hide it now that it’s so gorgeous?”

“If people see it, they’ll know how I feel about you. They’ll know something has changed… they’ll want to know everything, they’ll speculate.”

“Let them.”

Anthony is surprised to hear that. Ian always had this type of attitude, acting unaffected by everything, but he knows that he’s really a private person and this type of thing bothers him.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck it, man.” Ian laughs. “I got my soulmate back. I don’t give a fuck what strangers on the internet have to say about it.”

Anthony can’t help but let his laughter infect him. Without having to think about it too much, he just does the most natural thing he could do. He kisses his soulmate.

♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡

[guqwrvte]

make it three | intro

⨽ summary: everything made sense to you, until it didn’t. you expected the name of your soulmate to appear on your shoulder the day you turned twenty-one. and on the day of your twenty-first birthday, that happened, but instead of one name, there were three.

⨽ pairing: vminkook x reader 

⨽ genre: fluff , soulmate au , slow burn (?)

⨽ warnings: none expect strong language

⨽ word count: 400+

⨽ a/n: my first series, let’s go~

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror and bit your lip as you slowly bought your hand up to your shoulder.

You were nervous, and you had every right to be. This would be the first time you'd see your soulmate's name, and anyone's name could be engraved into your skin.

Although your shoulder was covered, you knew the name had appeared. It appeared just after midnight, and the pain it brought instantly caused you to wake up from your slumber and clutch your shoulder in a failed attempt to soothe it.

You tightly closed your eyes as you rolled up the sleeve, slowly exposing the new mark on your shoulder.

"Three, two, one." You whispered before opening an eye to take a look.

The nervous expression on your face was quickly replaced by a shocked one as you stared at the mark, your mouth agape.

On your shoulder were three names. You had three people's names engraved on your shoulder instead of one.

"Dad!" You exclaimed before rushing out of the bathroom to ask your father to explain why you appeared to have three soulmates instead of one.

Everything they taught you in school about soulmates had made sense to you. But not once did they ever mention having multiple was a possibility.

"What's the problem, sweetie?" Your father asked, looking up from his book.

"Look!" You exclaimed, showing him your shoulder, and his eyes widened.

"Oh my! The name finally appeared! I'm so happy for you, y/n! Lemme see!" He happily exclaimed, getting up from the couch to see better. He gasped when he saw three names. "Three soulmates! That's so cool, sweetheart,

"How are you not freaking out?" You asked, looking at your shoulder with a frown.

"Why should we?"

"I have three soulmates, dad!"

"I know, sweetie. I can see that."

"Do you not see anything wrong with that?"

"No."

"Come on, dad! Please explain why I have three names on my arm instead of one?" You asked.

"Well, I can't really explain that. The universe has decided to give you three soulmates instead of one. So you're going to be part of a soulmate cluster! " He told you, taking your hands. "Soulmate clusters aren't common, but you'd be surprised how many people are part of one."

Your father sat you on the couch and tried his best to explain how soulmate clusters worked. Despite him going into as much detail as possible, you couldn't seem to process anything he was saying.

Just a couple of hours ago, everything about soulmates made sense to you. But now that you've checked your shoulder, it didn't.

All because the universe decided to give you three soulmates instead of one.

next / masterlist

taglist !! (inbox me or send me a message to be added) :

@bluemooncnblue ; @emu0077 ; @malewife-supremacy ; @4evahevah ; @xx-sikki-nixx-xx ; @ayoo-bangtan ; @morklee02 ; @taeeflwrr ; @svrcegi ; @brit97 ; @thereaderwholovesyou ; @potaetopic , @yoonabeo ; @doublebunv ; @daphnxy ; @jinsquishes ; @tinyoonsblog ; @i-dont-know-me-either ; @teti-menchon0604 ; @chanscase143

[bee-the-loser]

₊ ⊹☼ #FAD6A5 Orange ☼⊹ ₊ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── ₊ ₊ ⊹☼ Pairing: Heeseung x reader ₊ ⊹☼ Synopsis: Your professor asks you to create a new selection of paintings based off what colours mean to you and how they are represented in your view. The first colour: orange ₊ ⊹☼ Genre: College au, soulmate au, artist reader, colourblind reader ₊ ⊹☼ Word count: 992 ₊ ⊹☼ Warnings: Small mention of hook-ups ₊ ⊹☼ A/N: Okay first proper chapter, working my way slowly into it ₊ ⊹☼ Previous ☼⊹ ₊ ₊ ⊹☼ Masterlist ☼⊹ ₊ ₊ ⊹☼ Next ☼⊹ ₊ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

University was becoming more stressful with each project piling up creating what felt like a never ending list. You had been working on your most recent art piece, a collage which depicted smaller sketches from throughout your week now delicately inked onto canvas. The black dripping down and staining the path in its wake, creating strong themes of connection and bonds. It was one of your favourite works so far and you were pleased that your seat mate, Sunoo, seemed to agree with that fact as he had become incredibly interested in watching the way you left strokes with your brush.

Maybe, that’s why it felt even more shocking for your professor to ask you to stay after class finished, so he could give you some extra feedback.

“While I can see you’re a very talented artist y/n, you’re too linear and set in your ways. I want to see the passion and emotion flourish. Showcase your feelings and life onto the canvas and make something unique. I want to see you succeed and you can’t keep going forward like this. You know what though, I’ll set you an extra task, starting next week, I want you to create a small painting collection depicting individual colours and what they mean to you.”

“But Miss, I can’t-”

“I’m very much aware of your circumstances, however, that is why I feel this task is even more important. Yes, you don’t view the world the same way as everyone else. So what? I see how your classmates depict colours every day through the clothes they wear, the paints they use, the make-up they display. Hell, your seatmate Mr Kim has bright pink hair as way to express himself, but you don’t. I think that’s what makes it even more important to show how things appear to you. I’ll be waiting.”

After returning back to your dorm and greeting the roommates, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all. Sitting in front of your canvas didn’t seem to help as you had no idea where to start or even the tools to do. You had never bothered with colours in the past, so why start now? However, Miss Kang was leaving no room for argument, expecting to see the results in the near future.

That room started to feel suffocating and you just needed to be some place else, so as the light outside began to dim you made the trek up the stairs to the rooftop, where you sat down on the lone bench facing the rest of the city. You weren’t sure how long you had been up there when the door slammed open and a slightly tipsy boy stumbled out and plonked himself down next to you.

“Hi”, he said with this blinding and slightly wonky smile on his face.

You mumbled a “hi” back before facing back towards the cityscape where the sun had begone to set behind the buildings and bustling roads. You knew if you focused on his face for too long you would want to sketch it, he was that type of pretty and you couldn’t help sneaking a few peaks back as he rested his eyes for a moment.

You knew who he was, being a friend of Sunoo’s, as the two shared a lunch table often with their 5 other friends, all of who had managed to cause some sort of stir in the times they had been here.

Lee Heeseung.

He was a good guy from what the rumours said, although an unfortunate track records of hook ups alongside his fellow friends in their 3rd year. Maybe that’s why you decided to ask, because you were both so different in personality. Him being confident, courageous and just overall unafraid of being himself and what attention he may receive as a result, while you shied away and tried to fade into the background as much as possible. So with the previous conversation with your teacher on your mind, you asked him “what do the colours express to you?”

You didn’t really expect him to answer so let it hang in the air before turning back to the view.

He seemed to startle at the question like he hadn’t been expecting you to talk to him honestly, and took a moment to collect himself before pausing to think. Unexpectedly enough he did answer you though.

“I guess that depends on which one your talking about, take this sunset though. The soft orange that dominates the skies suggest to me an idea of adventures to come. That the day is coming to a close and the night will soon take over allowing both those that slumber and those that stay awake to each take refuge in the privacy of the night. It can be the warmth that comforts you in moments like these when you want to wrap up in bundles of sweaters and coats to go out with friends or the roar of a fire burning in your ears as you become pissed off.” He seemed to take a minute to breathe there after sharing before attempting to play it all off like a joke, “or you know an orange?”

It was only a few minutes at most, but it felt like something had shifted between the two of you, like you had seen something he wasn’t ready to share yet. You didn’t even know if he knew your name, yet a moment now tied you two together; both equally unsure and contemplating how to move further forwards.

In the end, you decided it best to leave him alone with his thoughts, retreating back down to your dorm, and once more staring at the blank canvas in front of you. This time though, the sparks of an ember were there and you painted long into the night before settling down to sleep as the sun rose and a vivid orange for new beginnings set the scene.

[crossovershipstournament]

SIDE 2D: ROUND 1: Bowser (Super Mario)/Dr. Eggman (Sonic) VS Beastman (Masters of the Universe)/Lifeweaver (Overwatch 2)

Propaganda for Bowser/Dr. Eggman:

I support single villain dads dating https://www.tumblr.com/egg-emperor/713984787597164544/perfect-diabolical-dilf-duo-and-theyre-together

Propaganda for Beastman/Lifeweaver:

Okay, this crossover ship is brand spanking new because Lifeweaver's character was only released 6 days ago, but- Okay, so, Lifeweaver used to attend the Academy owned by the Vishkra Corporation until he went backpacking around the world and saw all the damage to the planet that was being done in the name of corporate greed and global control. Lifeweaver left Vishkra and joined Overwatch to "heal the world". He is a support character with healing abilities and a floral/plant-based aesthetic. Beastman used to be Skeletor's most loyal minion until Skeletor died in the first episode of Revelation. Beastman then made it his life's mission to protect Evil-Lyn whom had been Skeletor's lover and second-in-command. He is loyal to Lyn to a fault and at the end of Revelation, Beastman allows Lyn to turn him into a more animal-like beast, then he's almost immediately flung off a cliff and assumed dead. Beastman was done dirty by the narrative and is in need of physical and spiritual healing. Lifeweaver is a healer who wants to personally save everything. Lifeweaver could show Beastman that life is worth living without having to submit his service to a master, he could live for himself according to his own will. Beastman can teach Lifeweaver the follies of devoting too much of yourself to a singular purpose or ideal and that he needs to set aside time for himself and his own needs. They complete each other. Also, Lifeweaver/Beastman would be plant-animal solidarity.

Animal/plant solidarity, beauty and the beast aesthetic, they just complete each other, okay???

mutual support's the name of the game, my friend! Beastman is fiercely loyal even to the point of his own destruction. In MotU:R he's so loyal to Evil-Lyn that he allows her to turn him into a were-creature to fight for her, then he died. But at every step and beat of their relationship, Beastman was always supportive of Lyn, both physically in battle and also emotionally when they were both putting up with Skeletor's abuse. He even calls Lyn out when she continues the cycle of abuse after Skeletor is deposed. He is an emotionally strong man who's not afraid to show his vulnerable side. Lifeweaver is a new character from Overwatch 2 and we don't technically know a lot about him just yet. The canon facts we do know are that he used to attend the Vishkar Academy, but dropped out. He then went backpacking around the world and witnessed first hand how the corporate greed of the Vishkar corporation was killing the planet. He used his Academy training to develop the bio-light technique he uses to be a healer and support fighting in battle. But he's also a Thai Buddhist who believes in healing over destruction and believes that anyone can change, and learn, and grown if given the opportunity. Beastman and Lifeweaver are soulmates, places in different franchises because they would be too powerful together.

first of all, look at this adorable art of them: https://www.tumblr.com/kawehi-the-squigs/714344228724129792/commission-for-beastweaver-had-fun-with-this-one?source=share , and if you're still not convinced, then let me tell you about Beastman's character arch in MotU:R. When Beastman makes his first appearance in the series, he charges on the scene to protect Evil-Lyn (whom is a mage with long white hair). Over the course of the series it becomes apparent that his loyalty to Lyn is more than just simple friendship, but she's obviously not into him so Beastman is content to stay by her side as her friend and protector. When Evil-Lyn goes back to Skeletor, Beastman follows her. When Skeletor resume manipulating and abusing Lyn, Beastman is there to remind her of her value as a person and tell her that she's deserves better than Skeletor. When Evil-Lyn defeats Skeletor and takes over Caste Grayskull from him, Beastman is the voice of reason that calls Lyn out on continuing Skeletor's cycle of abuse. Beastman truly loved Lyn and wanted her to be happy, healthy, alive, and the best version of herself even if she wasn't with him. But, Evil-Lyn turned him into some kinda even more beastly beast-monster and sends him out to die in battle for her. Now, enter Lifeweaver from Overwatch 2. Lifeweaver is a scientist who created a kind of living light technique to heal his comrades in battle. To Beastman, this technology would appear like magic. Lifeweaver would appear like a mage, and he has long white hair. Lifeweaver would remind Beastman of all the good things about Lyn, but Lifeweaver doesn't have any of her flaws or failings (Lifeweaver's got his own flaws, but this post ain't about that). AND Lifeweaver has never perpetuated the cycle of abuse and, in fact, one of his voice lines is "grow into who you truly are". Lifeweaver would encourage Beastman to grow in ways he never could have on Eternia with Lyn and Skeletor. Lifeweaver could help Beastman to become the best version of himself. Beastman in turn could keep Lifeweaver grounded and not let him become so carried away by his ideals that he forgets where he is in the present. They compete each other.

(There is so much more; but I actually don't think I'll be able to fit ALL of it in here; this might be the ship in the tournament with the MOST propaganda! Mega props to the submitters, I adore your passion!)

Art Credit:

Bowser/Eggman art by @/kannra-orhara Beastman/Lifeweaver by @/kawehi-the-squigs, commissioned by @/beastweaver

[hailey-murdock]

Lose you

Chapter 3

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!reader

Warnings:(for this entire series) Angst, death, illness, nightmare, established relationship, drinking, depression, use of pet names, fluff, implied smut, mentions of college Matt and reader(let me know if I missed something out)

Tags: @little-miss-dilf-lover

Summary: Matt "the man without fear" may not after all be that. He fears he'll lose the person he most loves

Other characters: Foggy Nelson, Frank Castle

WC: 2.4K

A/N: Keep in mind the warnings, this chapter can be triggering to readers. Please read with precaution. (Reblogs, comment and likes are appreciated)

"You're amazing, sweetheart." Matt felt so much pride in his heart after the both of you had shown each other how deep your love is.

"And you're perfect Matty".

"Thank you..I love you, hun."

"I love you to the moon and back matty". A smile appeared on your face while the two of you held each other, entangled naked in the bed sheets.

"I love you even more than that. I love you to the multiverse and back. I will always love you in every world that exists. And I will always love you in every world that exists..in every timeline..in every universe. You're my soulmate".

You felt your eyes water. "I'm so sorry Matt, I don't want to leave you-". The guilt was eating you up inside of knowing you were going to leave behind Matt alone.

"What do you mean.."? He felt his heart beat faster and he started to tear up. What is it? What did the doctor say"? Matt had genuinely been caught up in the moment that he forgot about everything. That illusion was slowly starting to fade as reality finally managed to set into his head. 

"Matt remember that he said I have 6 months to live, you were there with me". 

The color drained from Matt's  face as he heard your words. His eyes widened and he stopped tearing up immediately. Matt didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think. His mind was blank.

"That's not..".  Matt closed his eyes as tears started to fall. "That's not fair.."

That was all Matt could say. He was speechless. He didn't want to believe it.

"Matt, listen to me, we are gonna make those 6 months the best 6 months we've ever lived. And I'm gonna love you until my last breath". 

"Y..you promise?" Matt tilted his head, tears running down his face. He was going to try to believe it, to keep a positive attitude. But deep down, Matt just felt like his world was collapsing around him. He was in denial.

You crossed your heart "I promise baby".  You smiled softly, but your face was still red and you were still wiping tears from your eyes.

"Thank you..thank you for that. I..I..I'll be strong. For you and for us. I'll make these last 6 months of your life memorable. I love you".

"You don't have to be strong Matty, it's okay to be sad and cry about it. You need to let it out, don't bottle it up. That will do you more harm".

"Ok ok..maybe I'll allow myself to cry..just a little.." Matt smiled and he gave a little laugh. He wiped his tears and he gave you a little kiss. "Hey...I don't know what I would do without you. I don't know how I would be strong enough to deal with anything..without you. You're my rock. You're my compass. I don't..I don't know what I would do without my rock..my compass..my love".

You cried softly at Matt's words. "Ever since I've met you Matt, you have made me a better person each day. You've shown me what real true love is and I'm thankful for that. We've both have made mistakes about our relationship in the past but we've always done everything we can to move forward and love one another"

Matt started tearing up more as I heard you as well. "You make me a better person too. You taught me what it's like to be kind and to be loving. I was so tough before I met you..so cold. But you..you showed me what it means to be warm, what it means to be gentle..what it means to be kind. You taught me things..you even taught me that it's ok to cry..that it's ok to be sad. Your heart is full of love..and you've taught me that". 

You grabbed Matt's hand and kissed it. "You, Matt Murdock are by far the greatest blessings that God has given me in my entire life".

"You're the greatest blessing God has given me too. I'll never understand what he sees in me. I don't understand how he could make a man as imperfect as me just happen to meet someone as perfect as you..but I'm so grateful that I did. I love you so much".

You wrapped your arm around Matt's arms and held it  tightly. "You are an angel sent from God to me".

Matt's eyes widened and tears dropped from his eyes even more than before.  "I...I don't know I deserve that title. I'm too imperfect.". He laughed a little bit. "I'm just..just a man. Who is in love. A silly, imperfect man who is in love".

You leaned in to kiss Matt's soft lips. "There are no words to describe...what you are to me..what we are to each other..I love you Matt Murdock".

Matt held you tight. "I love you too, sweetheart. I love you so much". Matt sighed and he closed his eyes. "I just wish that we could be together forever..but that can't be.."

His voice was sad. "I'm not going to give up, though. I will try and make every second I have with you count and live every second to the fullest".

"I know you will and that's why I love you Matt".

Five months pass and you're  getting worse each day. Matt still tried to put on a smile, but over the months his heart felt so heavy..and he tried his best to keep things positive. His heart broke though as he watched the days slowly go away. Matt tried to make things the best they could be..and he tried to spend as much time as he could with you, to make each day as memorable as he could.

Over the months Matt started to go back to college, and he tried to give himself something to work towards as well...to keep his mind off of things.

You were on call with Foggy, you both had agreed on him visiting you in a few. But started feeling really sick but you didn't want to say anything to Foggy. So you decided to call Matt while he was at school. 

The sound of the buzzing was loud in your ear and it was starting to get hard to keep your eyes open. Finally Matt answered the phone. 

"Hey sweetheart".

"Matt?" Your voice sounded so weak. Matt's face quickly went from neutral to worried.

"Is...is everything alright"? He began to walk out of the classroom and he started to walk back to the apartment worried. "Are you ok..are you feeling sick..?"

"M-Matt I need you to c-come h-home". You say very softly to the point you could barely hear your voice and you felt so weak that I collapsed on the floor and passed out as you tried to walk to the bedroom. 

Matt felt scared when he heard your words. He felt my heart drop to the floor and I started to get nervous when he heard the "thud" understanding that you fell.

"No no no..". Matt ran into an alley and I kept running as fast as I could. And jumping up to the roof and running to you. He felt tears drop from his face as I was already expecting the worst...but I was trying not to think about it.

You laid on the floor mumbling softly his name. Matt had never run faster in his entire life like in that moment, tears dropped from his face as I thought about being alone again. As he thought about losing...you. Matt knew what this meant.

"Please God, no..please. Tell me I have at least a little more time..".

Your heartbeat was getting slower by the minute. After some time had passed, Matt finally managed to get there. I ran so fast to the house...to get to you. He ran in the house and I sensed  you laying on the floor. Matt dropped to his knees next to you. 

"N..No...please". His voice broke. "You can't die...you can't". Tears dropped from my face again as he hugged you and he squeezed you tight.

A tear ran down your face and you felt cold, your body was freezing. Your heartbeat was getting even more slower and that for the first time ever Matt hated the way your heart beated. "M-Matt?" You pulled him with the last bit of energy you had left. 

"Y..yes..I'm here". Matt put his head on your chest and he hugged you tightly.

"I'm so sorry. I..I don't want to lose you. Why so soon"?  Matt was trying to hold his composure, but he found it hard to do so as tears continued to fall from his face.

"I-i love y-you in every world t-that exists".

Those are your last words as you take your last breath.

Matt heard your words and he felt a rush of grief hit his heart. He closed my eyes and his tears dropped on your face as I kept hugging you closely. Out of so much pain Matt let out a scream of pain and anger. He felt so much emotion..so many different kinds of emotions..all at the same time. He didn't know what to do or to say.

"N..no..No no no no no". Matt kept shaking his head. "God no". Matt squeezed you close, refusing to accept what you said. Even if it was true, he didn't want to accept it.

Your lifeless body laid there in his arms. More tears dropped from Matt's face as I kept holding you..not letting go. He doesn't want to believe this. Matt closed his eyes and he  tried to block out everything he was feeling and he just held you..but it didn't work. Matt kept crying.

It had been an hour since Foggy had called asking to come by and when he got to the apartment he saw Matt on the ground holding your lifeless body.

"Matt"? Foggy couldn't believe what was right in front of him. Tears pricked his eyes. He was speechless. He had just called, how was this possible. You sounded fine on the phone call. 

Matt didn't hear him. He was completely and utterly consumed in his grief. When he heard his name..I felt an immense amount of sadness. Matt  opened his eyes to see Foggy in front of him, and Matt felt tears running down my face again as his chest began to drop. That was the final nail in the coffin.

"N..no". It became too much..Matt couldn't accept it. Foggy immediately called for an ambulance to take you away. 

"Matt get up". Foggy tried to pull Matt away from you, he couldn't stand the scene in front of him. He tried to stay strong for Matt as he held back his tears. In Matt's grief and sadness, he didn't stop him as Foggy started to pull him away. Matt let himself fall to the floor and his heart broke even more. He felt so crushed. He felt like I had lost everything.

"Foggy…she's g-gone". Foggy held Matt in his arms to try to comfort him as he saw you on the ground. "It's all gonna be okay". Matt started sobbing as he felt so much emotion. His heart was completely shattered, and he felt like his soul was being crushed. He held Foggy tightly in a hug as he continued to sob in desperation. 

The ambulance came to take your body away. When the ambulance came, Matt felt his heart drop. He didn't want to let you go...there had to be something he could do. He wouldn't give up. Matt wanted to stay with you, no matter what. He tried asking them to be let inside the ambulance. Matt even attempted to go in. He tried going into the ambulance but they told him they wouldn't allow him.

"No..please". Tears dropped from Matt's face as he watched them take you away from him. Foggy held him back to let them do their job since he tried to get into the ambulance, fighting with them. "Matt, we have to let her go".

"F..foggy why? Why"?! He cried into his shoulder in grief. There had to be something that could have saved you. Matt had never in his entire life had felt so weak and powerless. All because he had lost you. You were gone. 

"I'm sorry but it was her time to go Matt". 

Tears kept falling as Matt heard the ambulance drive away, taking you away from him. First he lost his dad, Stick and now you? Why? Wasn't he god's soldier? Hasn't he sacrificed so much already?

"It can't be the end for her..please don't tell me that". He felt like his heart was going to explode as so many different things were hitting. Matt felt so crushed and he wasn’t ready for this.

I'm so sorry Matt but it's real. S-she's gone and there's nothing we can do…look we have to plan a funeral for her….."

Funeral.

Matt's heart dropped even more when the reality finally set in. You were gone..and then he and Foggy had to plan your funeral. He felt even more sad. Matt closed his eyes as he felt more tears run down his face. Matt felt like the only one who could understand his pain was Frank. Who knew this could be so painful? Of course Matt lost many people in his life, but you, with you it was so much different. You were the reason Matt wanted to live, to keep on fighting his demons. 

"I...how?..this doesn't feel real". 

"It's real bud and I'm truly sorry, I know how much you loved her. Foggy hugged him tightly. He didn't know what to say anymore. His guard was crumbling slowly. He tried so hard to be strong for Matt but he couldn’t. 

"I don't know how I can live without her...everything I did was with her in mind. Everything I loved..she was a part of it. She was..she was my whole life..and she's gone. This..this isn't fair".

Foggy didn't know what to say except just to hold you. Matt was completely devastated.

"Please God..tell me this isn't real.Please tell me this is all a nightmare..that I'm going to wake up soon".

"I'm sorry Matt".

Previous | Next

[cypreus-and-willow]

Digimon Survive Week

Day 5 Relationships

This day's thing was supposed to be a silly little doodle about Kaito slowly taking over the role of being Shuuji’s older brother but you get two heartfelt minifics instead.

Relationship With Others

This is a snippet from a longer fic but still makes sense without context.

Dracmon looks up at him from the floor, big eyes full of sorrow.

"You can't just be angry anymore Kaito. Look where your anger leads you."

The defeat stings worse than the bruises on his knuckles. Losing over and over and over even when he wins the fight. "I don't know what else I can be."

"Well you love 'em don'cha? You love 'em, and you're angry 'cause they got hurt." His partner smiles at him. “You say you only know how to be angry, I say it's time you let other feelings take the reins.”

"Dracmon." There’s no words that can let him know what he really feels. So he lifts his partner off the floor and embraces him, sharp edges and all. "Thank you."

"You protect them like you do Miu,” Dracmon gives him the command as he wraps his arms around Kaito’s neck. “You protect 'em, 'cause there's no one else who can."

Relationship With Self

CW: self-harm

This is a snippet from my soulmate AU. Spoilers for true path under the cut.

What the f*ck do you want?

These were the words that appeared on the skin of Kayama Shuuji on the day he turned six years old. A day that every child looks forward to. The day that the universe gifts them the first words of their best friend, their partner, their forever person. His brother laughs. "Don't worry about it, soulmates just means you’re always going to be in each other's lives.” His brother slaps his shoulder, “Hey, maybe you’ll be enemies forever. It’s pretty rare, you know. You should be glad about that.”

But this six year old didn’t want enemies. He just wanted a friend.

Shuuji looks at the brand new words on his forearm; this bitter gift from the universe. He hoped that at least one person in this whole world would want him. But maybe, the world didn’t want him either.

The child he was is reflected in Lopmon’s shining eyes. He looks so small like this. Six years old. Begging to be loved.

He thinks of the scars littering the skin of his arms, his legs. Sees Lopmon hurting on the ground, scared, alone, defeated. So much like himself. Suddenly the words he’d tried to scratch out seems so insignificant. All his hopes and dreams and loves went to the imaginary person he thought would rescue him. He’d left no love for himself. No room for it, not amongst the debris left in the wake of every verbal beating. Every time his mind was scrambled from one reality to the next. But maybe, all this time - maybe he was the only one who could rescue himself. (Maybe he’s the only one who could ever love someone as unlovable as him).

I’ve hated you for so long. He thinks poisoned thoughts toward his reflection. You were always so useless. That’s why your dad hates you. That’s why your brother doesn’t care.

His cheek smarts from the punch that woke him from his nightmares. Keeps him awake and on track now amongst the danger. He looks at Lopmon, at his younger self reflected in those trembling watery eyes. And sees the kindling hope in danger of being dashed. He still remembers the day that hope in him was killed. It feels so long ago now.

He thinks there might have been a time he even liked the boy he was. He was braver then, back before the defiance was beaten out of him and he could no longer stand up on his own two feet. But Lopmon isn’t him, as much as the trembling and the fear and softness of his voice and the kindness in his eyes looks exactly like Shuuji’s worst secrets. Lopmon still has a chance.

"Lopmon."

Shuuji

"I want to be strong. Strong enough to protect everyone. Protect you… from people like me."

He thinks he sees his younger self in Lopmon’s smile.

They win the fight. Lopmon floating towards him with the brightest grin. He catches his boy, the one that never stopped yearning for love. He catches Lopmon and holds him tighter than he's ever held on to anyone. Lopmon holds him too. And for the first time in his life, Shuuji feels wanted.

@surviveweek

[phanfictioncatalogue]

15k Words Fics Masterlist

A Sword, A Little Bit Of Magic, And A Whole Lot Of Pizza (ao3) - FoxyAtlas

Summary: When Dan and Phil are following strange dark creatures that appeared out of nowhere in London, things go wrong and they end up being sucked into an alternate dimension, where magic exists and they must find a way to use it in order to contain the creatures before they completely overrun this new world. Warning: contains the use of ‘spork’ as an insult, the destruction of a perfectly good library book, and questionable pizza physics.

All Was Golden In the Sky - darling-phil

Summary: After Dan and Phil found each other, time seemed to slip away from them faster than they could expect. As the seasons change, the pair face the reality of a new relationship, carrying it through its ups and downs. No matter what, they’d always come out stronger.

August (ao3) - glowingatmosphere

Summary: When Dan returns home and meets up with his childhood friend Phil after they’ve finished their first year of uni, he notices that things between them are different. As they rekindle their friendship, Dan completely immerses himself in the new feelings that he’s developing for his best friend. But when Phil starts talking about another boy, Dan begins to wonder whether Phil was ever really his.

Barbie Horse Adventures (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Sometimes friends force you to get over your worst fears, sometimes you meet your soulmate in the process.

Carpets, Pokemon and hugs (These are a few of my favorite things) (ao3) - DownDownFangirl

Summary: "Is everything ok?" The tall guy stops. The elevator starts to close. The guy reaches for the door and it opens again. He looks into Phil's eyes and it’s strong and focused and confusing.

-

Phil works at a motel and Dan is a guest who comes and goes. There are many thoughts to think and many delicate conversations to have... And it can get confusing, especially when you live hundreds of kilometers away from each other.

doppelt. (ao3) - schnaf

Summary: The big wheel in Manchester. The big wheel in another Manchester. Phil's disappearance. Finding Phil - twice. Dealing with Doppelgängers. That's not exactly what Dan expected from their first meeting. But in the end, being with Phil is all that matters.

eloquent graffiti (ao3) - danhedonia (deathpeach)

Summary: It was a beautiful, relatively simple scene; a field with mountains off in the horizon, a galaxy for a sky, and a silhouette of a man made of stardust laying in a field, looking up at the universe above him.

Phil didn’t know it at the time, but that was the first painting of his that Dan inspired. Dan was his spaceman, his beautiful work of art that Phil wanted to spend the rest of his life recreating in every possible way.

From London to Paris (ao3) - animad

Summary: Dan and Phil meet interrailing through Europe.

Gemini and Aquarius (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan and Phil are young, in love, and progressively exploring their sexual relationship while dealing with the agony of a long-distance relationship.

Grey - washedoutgay

Summary: Colour isn't really something that Dan understands, all he knows that from a young age he wanted to find his soulmate so he could see the world in the perfect light. But after meeting a boy with light grey eyes who doesn't feel the same and spending most of his life never apart from him, maybe his idea can change to match.

#IPreferDan (ao3) - ellisonavenue

Summary: He never planned on keeping the pill a secret from Phil because he never planned on Phil and him living together so comfortably for over 3 years. He'd banked on a year maybe a year and a half before they went their separate ways. He'd only banked on 2 months max before Phil found out what the pills were for. Dan couldn’t believe it was 2015 and Phil didn’t know yet.

Or the one where Dan was born female and refuses to tell anyone.

In a Strange Room With a New Last Name (ao3) - yellowlampshade

Summary: The first thing Dan did after accepting the proposal was write to Chris.

Just days after turning eighteen, Dan is forced by his parents to accept a marriage proposal from an Alpha he's never met.

“Daniel? Daniel, wait, you don’t have to…” Philip was behind him, his hand on Dan’s to stop him from undressing, and he couldn’t be numb anymore. Every feeling hit him at once and suddenly he was crying and couldn’t stop. He brought his hands to his face to muffle his sobs, and this wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, it was so much better when he felt nothing because now everything hurt. He missed his room and his friends and his brother and Chris and he was so afraid of this.

Just A Toy (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: He takes whatever Phil gives him, because he loves being treated like nothing more than a toy to be used. And above all, he loves Phil. He’d do anything for Phil.

Maybe I miss you (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil leaves Dan for several months to temporarily live in New York City and work on a movie set.

The distance between them drove them both insane, but neither of them could voice the reason why.

When Dan comes to visit Phil in New York his feelings are threatened to spill after an encounter with one of Phil's new friends, but he keeps lying- to both Phil and himself.

Hopefully he can eventually tell the truth, because Phil gets another long-term job opportunity in California and Dan can't take any more distance.

maybe they're seeing something we don't, darling (ao3) - phantasizeit

Summary: When Phil invites Dan to the Lester family Christmas, Kath can only assume that they’ve have finally gotten together. Dan and Phil don’t realize Kath’s misunderstanding until it’s a little too late. But, how hard can it be to fake a relationship between them? (AKA: The fic where Dan and Phil are already dating, but have to be put in a fake relationship situation to realize it. Also, they do fluffy Christmas things with the Lesters.)

Middle of Somewhere (ao3) - throughtheirsnoses (det395)

Summary: Phil's an apprentice at a library who is drawn to a regular visitor with fluffy hair and a questionable attitude

Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: It’s taken Dan a year to work up the courage to really discover why he keeps slipping into something he doesn’t fully understand, but now that he’s discovered that he’s not alone, he’s ready to find a solution, even if that does mean accepting a Dom into his life. Thank God Phil is there to save him when things seem like they’re about to go wrong.

perihelion (ao3) - fleurdelester

Summary: per·i·he·li·on

the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is closest to the sun

or

the one where Dan wants to study the stars and Phil wants to be king of the universe

The Window To His Soul (ao3) - ctrling

Summary: Phil’s hope has always rested in a soulmate he’s never met, but when he moves to a new town and his eyes change from black to blue, he embarks on a mission to find his soulmate with the help of of his new friend, Dan, that has him questioning everything he’s ever wanted.

these violent delights of love (ao3) - cyanica

Summary: Dan is hopelessly in love, Phil’s seemingly oblivious and they’re on a world tour just to make things more chaotic.

And yet, the Gods, or the Ruler of the Universe, or whoever the hell was in charge decided Dan needed to die in the end, too. Currently, leaning over the porcelain throne of shit and piss was the Gods' human voodoo doll, throwing up the contents of his unfortunate Indian dinner – and significantly more alarming than that: black tulips. Fucking flowers. This wasn’t real life.

they grew up so nicely, didn't they? (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Cornelia doesn’t just get a boyfriend when she starts dating Martyn, she gets a whole second family too. Kath and Nigel welcome her with open arms and she becomes a pseudo older sister to Phil.

She is there watching from the sidelines as a boy bolts right into Phil’s heart and sets up camp. She gets to watch as Dan and Phil build careers and an internet community and all the trials and tribulations, as well as the pride and happiness, it brings along.

What Would You Do for 14 Million Pounds? (ao3) - Merrydith

Summary: If you told Phil Lester in 2017 about the plans he made for September 30th, 2020…he would have laughed in your face. He would have told you that you were crazy and that he wouldn’t do that for “a million pounds”.

But what about 14 million?

[praetorqueenreyna]

Happy Sunday from your Secret Santa! ✨✨✨

I read over your last reply, and while I haven't had much practice in the way of modern AUs, I must say that your New Year's kiss idea intrigues me!

If you had to pick one couple to feature in this story, who would it be? Your wish list mentioned: Tamlin/Lucien, Tamlin/Rhysand, Tamlin/Nesta, Rhysand/Nesta, Rhysand/Lucien, Tamlin/Eris, and Feyre/Cassian. Your remaining couples may or may not make an appearance in this story. 😉 (I am intrigued to try writing Feyre and Cassian together, for example, but they don't need to be the focus.)

If you chose to pair Lucien with Tamlin as your main couple, for example, who else would you like to see with Rhysand, or Eris?

I look forward to your next reply!

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa

P.S. It was fun to learn about your love for "sea creachers" (aquarium setting, anyone?), but why not otters or dolphins?

YAY!! I feel like New Years kiss doesn't HAVE to be a modern AU, no reason that Prythian doesn't have a New Years tradition! They have Christmas, after all!

And HONESTLY if I had to pick a number one favorite ship it would be Tamlin/Lucien. I love them so much, they are actual soulmates to me, they would find each other in any and every universe.

And HONESTLY when it comes to background couples, I just would love to see some interesting and weird pairings! So putting Rhysand and Eris together, for example, would be hilarious to me. I don't have super strong opinions about anybody else as long as Tamlin and Lucien are together <3

P.S. LOL so idk I feel like marine mammals, especially dolphins and otters, get WAY TOO MUCH attention and praise in modern media. They're cute and very smart, but also can be vicious and gross, and I am SICK OF HEARING ABOUT THEM. I just tend to love the creepy crawly/less adorable sea creatures!! There's so much cool sea life that gets ignored in favor of talking about mammals.

FOR EXAMPLE:

California sea hare: a sea slug that gets about the size of a cat that produces toxic purple ink when it's disturbed.

swell shark: not all sharks are scary!!! these lil guys only get a few feet long, and they get their name bc when they get scared they hide in holes and inflate themselves with water so they can't be removed.

plainfin midshipman: these fish have rows of photophores (light producing cells) on their stomach. they spend their winters at depth, then move up in the intertidal in the summer to breed. the males create nests and take care of the young, and they communicate verbally with each other!

[mpreginthestars]

Poppa worships the ground that Momma’s swollen feet walks on. Wherever she goes, he will always be there, following close behind her with every stride that she takes, and giving her the support that she needs to go on. To Louis, Harry is his everything. The mother of his unborn baby, the keeper of his innermost hopes and dreams, the protector of his weary heart, and his one and only soulmate in the entire universe. He’d do anything for Harry… anything, no matter how mundane or difficult it may be. Just sitting at his feet fills Louis’s heart with an immeasurable joy, a feeling so strong that he can hardly contain himself. Their puffy appearance, their smooth texture, their musky stench… everything about them enthralls him. He knows how much they ache… how much anguish they put Momma through… and so, he never passes up a chance to kiss on them, and strengthen her foundation with the softness of his lips. Whatever she needs, he’ll do it without asking a single question. Anything to keep Momma comfortable.

_________________________________

[gingerel]

“It should work the other way round,” Kaoru snaps, crossing his arms and flopping back on the bed as rigid as a plank.

“Uh huh,” Kojiro agrees half-heartedly.

It’s funny, in a way, that Kaoru is more hung up on this than he is — that this is something he’s even allowing himself to spend time ruminating over. It’s funny that he’s obviously worried.

Kojiro isn’t worried.

He won’t get a soulmark tomorrow — he’s certain of that.  

It will appear next spring. The moment Kaoru turns nineteen.

“Why should the younger one have to wait,” Kaoru snaps.

“It’s the older one waiting,” Kojiro responds instinctively.

That’s the only part really worrying him. Kojiro knows, is so absolutely sure he would bet every single material belonging he has on the fundamental fact that the universe agrees with him, and he and Kaoru are supposed to be together.

And yet —

He has to wait to find out. To see if the tiny, less than half a percent chance, Kaoru’s soul is entwined with someone else’s comes true. He has to wait the better part of a year. If a wild, unfair twist of fate dumps a mark on Kojiro’s body tomorrow morning and he’ll still be waiting, with bated breath, to see who is lucky enough to be bound to Kaoru in his stead.

Not that it really means anything. They can still choose.

But he and Kaoru aren’t together now, and Kojiro thinks this is why. Thinks Kaoru is more of a romantic than he lets on, that in the depth of his walled off heart is the need to have the fairy-tale story of loving his soulmate in every way imaginable, with every fibre of his being.

Kaoru sniffs, “We should get them when we’re born.”

“Lot of pressure for a baby,” Kojiro mumbles, trying to break the tension. He’s known since he was just a kid, proudly proclaiming it aloud from almost the very first moment he met Kaoru in that playground.

Kaoru’s arms unravel and he rolls onto his side, looking up at Kojiro where he’s leaning against the desk.

“At least we’d — you’d know,” Kaoru says.

“You think I’ll be the younger one?” Kojiro asks, genuinely curious as to what scenario Kaoru has built up in his head. Kaoru loves him, he’s fairly sure of that, even if he doesn’t let himself believe or act on it.

“Of course,” Kaoru says confidently, serious enough that Kojiro could even believe what he says next. “It’ll be some older woman, in need of a strong boy to carry her overstuffed handbag and cook for her three times a day.”

Kojiro blinks at him, Kaoru’s face finally cracks into a smile.

“Why else would you be the way that you are?”

“Get off my bed,” Kojiro demands, ruining it by laughing. “Out of my house and never some back.

Kaoru laughs, deep from his chest and Kojiro flops down on the bed beside him to wait out what’s to come. However long it takes.

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Beauty of Love

Beauty of Love

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Jean D’Arc x OC (Julia)

Prompt: Day 3  Enemies AU | Soulmates AU

Part of content creation challenge hosted by me and @xxsycamore

Tag: Fluff

Word Count: 1.295

Author’s Note: Each beauty mark and moles is a place soulmates love to kiss.

Pursuing this dream she decided to travel all around the kingdom only to find her twin flame, but dark clouds shadow the sun as doubts and insecurity crowded her mind.

A special encounter put her in the right path when a misterious military commander save the day and her clothes from a nasty puddle, love conquers all winning over the heart of two reservate person who against all odds will find their way to love one another as written on the stars from the beginning of the universe. 🥰

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @atelieredux @klutzyroses @thewitchofbooks @princess-pray-a @itsjudesfault

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it. 😊

It is said that every beauty mark we have it the place where our other half love to kiss us, yet every day more it seemed like a dream straight out from a fairytale book than something real to rely and have faith on. It was a frizzy autumn day, rain has been but a rare occurence due to the blessed mild weather of the region she was actually travelling in, running a travelling bookstore was not easy task but at least she get to know remote corner of the beautiful Kingdom she lived in, giving her an helping hand in finding her soulmate or so she hoped at least, yet some months were passed since she started her peculiar activity and she meet more people than what she would have liked to, all kinds of folks went to her to grab a book leaving her with a meager profit and a kind words on their lips boosting her determination to wander a bit more with the ever lasting flickering hope to meet her twin flame.

Even though some days when she was slumped in the miniscule home  she called her band wagon to be looking straight through the window as dark clouds obscured the sun she let sighs pervade the air, caressing absently her white tiger plushie as wicked thoughts begin to settle in her mind that maybe she was just destined to be alone, it was a rare occurence not to have a soulmate but it happened and she felt her hope begin to flicker lightly thereatening to snuff as this case seemed to became more real at each wasted day.

If only she would have met her twin flame she may have finally settled down, but he had yet to appear whereas all her friends had long since done so with their lovers, even Arthur the most flamboyant playboy she had ever known had at least give up his flirtarious lifestyle for love. She sighed a frown on her delicate lips as she dispensed kind lip service to the man who was trying hard for nothing to win her over, for his kiss was very well far away from the right place

“Thank you sir for stopping by.” Another day and another man trying to woo her, beauty was not wasted on her yet her heart crumbled  with loneliness at each day spent all alone with only her books to keep her company. The road was dirty and slimy from the recent rain she was about to curse on as an huge puddle stretched in front of her she was about to fall into when suddenly she felt pulled back by two pair of strong arms and as husky deep voice stirred something inside her she could not quite place but felt dizzied by its spell

“You must be more careful mademoiselle. I suggest you to wacth carefully your step to avoid getting hurt.” His warm broad chest engulfing her from behind, slowly she turned to look at her unexpected saviour but was robbed of her tongue the instant she did so, he was gorgeous to say at least, ethereally beautiful like an ancient statue worthy to be in a museum to be gawked in awe at, his raven hair slightly disheveled to conceal his right eye covered with an embroidered navy eyepatch while an ill masked concern flickered in his moonless eye, judging by his clothes he had to be a military commander since only them were allowed to wear an one shoulder cloak.

She shook her head to clear her mind shyly looking back at him “Thank you for your help monsieur. I will be.” a light frown appeared on his lips pushing her to panic fearing to have upset him “I am afraid you shalt bear my company a little longer mademoiselle. It is not safe for a girl wandering alone so late at night. Please allow me to escort you to an inn.” Unable to find any argument to speak back she nooded quietly murmuring

“Thank you for your kind thought.”

The walk was long and tiring but at least they get to know one another a bit better, even if he was a man of few words he seemed interested in her peculiar job gaining a free book she promptly gifted him seeig a feeble smile appear on his lips that make her heart flutter beyond reason, she sighed dreamily how much she would have loved to know him better but she was sure that someone so kind like him would have already met his twin flame who was probaly taking care of him more than flawlessly, maybe already ready to bear him a child.

Her eyes got misty at that thought as she shivered from the frizzy air of the night, when suddently she felt a weight on her shoulder she soon discovered to be his cloak, surprised behind words she looked up at him

“I noticed you were cold, I could not let you get sick under my watch.”

She smiled shyly “Thank you so much monsieur, your wife must be such a lucky woman.”

She had talked before thinking, promptly she covered her lips with her hand

“I am sorry monsieur I did not intended to pry.”

“Please do not be concerned it did not bothered me, moreover I have yet to get one.”

A little satisfied smile appeared on her lips as hope flickered bolder in her heart, finally they arrived to an inn where they had to share a bedroom, since all the rooms were already taken, spending a blissfull night chit chatting and getting to know each other until dawn when reluctantly they bid goodbye to one another, sure yet sad that no more they would have meet but destiny had other plans.

Softly he cradled her hand in his kissing reverently her knuckles, a sweet sensation begin to swell in heart but a soft frown took hold of her feeling him pull away but just when she had give up hope he turned her hand in his leaving an achingly gentle kiss at the base of her middle finger, where a dark pink mole layed.

Slowly he pulled away looking straight into her eyes mirroring her smile so bright as to put the sun itself to shame, gratitude bursting in her heart as relief in having finally a worth payback to all the effort she spent looking for him, her one and only soulmate she would have spent all eternity with.

Hesitation had not an hold on her as she without thinking twice stood on her tiptoe kissing a place near his left eye partially where a little brownish mole hide naughtily behind his dark lock, he smiled tenderly at her gingerly circling his arms aound her back, hearing her giggle content to be with him nuzzling playfully in his chest hiding her misty eyes kissing lightly his hsort above his heart.

Gently he cradled her face into his hands softly brushing his fingers on her cheeks as he murmured tenderly “My love.” gingerly he untied his eyepatch, hoping in her acceptance she did not shied away from showering him in brushing her lips over the scarred burnt on his right eye whispering softly “My hero.” smiling reassuringly at him, whimpering lightly at his lips slowly melted over hers, pulling away as they smiled blissfully grateful for having found one another in the endless sea of eternity with only their love as light shining on the dark path they had to cross to get together, defeating everyone who would have dared keep them apart for their destiny was to be forever together as written in the stars from the origin of the universe and for all eternity.

[baekhvuns]

I HEAR AN ANON FELT BAD ABT SOMETHING!!! 🤸🧍

Oooohhh imma just say anon, i believe sometimes we hear things the other person doesn't really means, I'm not sure how your friend has treated you in the past or if she's said tht to you consistently so maybe that's why it made you feel bad when she mentioned her 'bf' and that's totally fine trust me I've had frnds too tht out of nowhere bring it something I rlly don't want them to mention. But hear me out, you gotta enjoy your life to the fullest!! WITH YOUR KPOP BOIS AND MANHWA DRAWINGS!! I bet you're soulmate is out there rn, wanting to find someone perfect for him...and then here you are and you hv no idea. Believe in the universe, Destiny literally never plays. anyways where cn i read tht fic-

--------------------------------------------------

AND NOW ABT MISS BAEKS...YOUR NAME IS KIRA?!?!? Lmfaooo I've seen those memes where they say trash + trash and trash no 1 is soveishu and trash no 2 is rashta.

Hehehehe you thought I'll make only for San??? BWAHAHAHAAHA *devil laugh*

OMG UNDERCOVER EMPRESS AND THIEF SAN??!?? IM- 🤌🤌 GURL YOU HV LITERAL GEMS!!! DIAMONDS!!! :00 NOT THE YSL PERSONA 😭😭

But marques falhan..😧 I'm gonna give them the title of yunho (kosair) and jongho (falhan) although I'm still not sure but Hey it works. HOLY BANOLY WHAT IN THE FRICKITY FRACKITY FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS RASHTA?!?!?! THE AUDACITY, SHE HAS TO CALL NAVIER INFERTILE INFRONT OF HER AND KOSAIR?!?!?! kosair buddy, unleash yourself...kill her. When soveishu realises the big mistake he made, how rashta never loved him, how all she ever desired was the riches and power, he's gonna....he's gonna regret it so much I hope he gives up his title. "The empress said I was worthless first"

OHMYGOD IM- 💀 WTF IS WRONG WITH THIS EMPEROR HE BELIEVES EVERY THING THT TRASHTA SAYS? (this is so soap opera coded tho) Ok forget I said this soap opera coded it reminds me of the crown. There.

The way I feel so envious and so boiled up every time I see any scene of rastha and soveishu...it makes me think if navier was real, what would she be going through? My girl is crazy strong, soveishu really lost a gem, Heinrey was right. [Omg I just saw McKenna transform frm his bird form to human form and OH MAN- 🛐]

I feel like Duke ergi is basically fooling rashta and she's following him, digging her own grave Bcz she in the end has no intellect whatsoever, she's blinded by power and she'd do anything to achieve it, which will eventually lead to her downfall.

no fr dad's are literally so confusing??!?; the other day, I was eating my breakfast while watching TV and my dad comes into the living room, watches me for a while, like he literally stared at me while he stood in front of me so I stopped...obv thinking what was wrong and then i slowly took in the spoon filled with cereals and he went "what's tht way of eating??" AND I WAS LIKE WHAT?! 😭😭 he said "why can't you eat normally??" And I was like bro u caught me off-guard?!?! Then he just patted my head, gv out a chuckle and left?!?!

OMG GURL THE BL'S UPDATE IS HERE!!! IMMA GO READ IT!! AGHHHHHHHHHHH HAEBOM APPEARED SHIRTLESS AHHHHH ...girl his not even wearing his bottoms- wow the confidence to show up almost naked infront of sungho and just a towel hanging down here like?!?! 😭 SUNGHO NOWS NOT THE TIME TO BE THINKING ABT WHAT U JUST SAW 😭 oh thanks god he's clothes omg..

HAEBOM HAEBOM JUST ASKED HIM FOR A SLEEPOVER AT HIS HOUSE AHHHH OMG THE EXCUSE WAS "SINCE THE BABY'S ALR ASLEEP" OH YOU SMOOTH MF!! Aw they're washing the dishes together 🤧 just get married alr ok, we're having some deep talks.

Haebom has a sad past...his mother was a kind soul but the villagers took advantage of her kindness and set their house on fire when he was a kid....hah no wonder he doesnt trusts anyone easily.

Lol he changed back to his persona 😭

OHHHHH SUNGHO GOT DISH SOAP IN HIS EYES I THINK IK WHATS ABT TO HAPPEN AHHHHH HAEBOM'S HELPING HIM BRO THEIR PROXIMITY ALL WHILE WHEN HAEBOM HIS SHIRTLESS 😭😭😭

....I bet sungho has realised something just now.."he has blue eyes I never noticed" BOI-

BRO HE JUST KISSED HIM!!! I REPEAT SUNGHO KISSED HAEBOM 😭😭😭 OMG IT HAPPENED :0 "my bad" 💀 pls-

"His lips are so soft" both of them thinking the same thing...while haebom is standing frozen in his place not moving an inch and sungho awkwardly ran off 😭

"Is something wrong with me? Am I dying" 😭 why is he like this??? Your heart is beating idiot YOU'RE IN LOVE HAEBOM!

tough man cried. ykw I bet he's just a baby inside with all that muscles and intimidating aura he has and I bet only sungho can calm that baby down who suffered the trauma of being all alone.

WOULD YOU BELIEVE THIS MAN CRIED?!?! 😭 I'm so soft for big men embracing their vulnerable and sensitive side.

Look tho I found some pictures of remarried empress and it has come to my attention THAT THIS IS A NOVEL AND THE FIRST PIC IS BASED ON THE NOVEL DESIGN LIKE DAMN-

Ohhh a bollywood movie?? No Bcz u were the reason I watched my first Bollywood movie AND ILL WATCH ONE AGAIN!

Life at work has been boring. Nothing new, no new interactions, don't even abt my uni tho, there is not one single person tht I like 😮‍💨 anyways, manifesting for all the hopeless romantics a ff typa love story!!

exactly!!!! & HELLO

YES IT IS HELLO 😭😭😭 jVCNDBWK NO SERIOUSLY SHE REALLY IS TRASH IM SO EXQUISITELY DISGUSTED BY HER 😭😭

PLEASE. OH MY GOD. KAUFMANS ENTIRE PERSONA IS SO MINGI IM ACTUALLY SCREAMIMG THE PICTURE—i ran around my room a little just now— he also sometimes reminds me of rm like this combo is gorgeous

CALLING NAVIER INFERTILE IS A DIRECT INSULT BC TO SOVIESHU BC WE ALL KNOW WHOS THE REAL ONE i just know heinry is gonna be all smirky when navier and he have a kid and rashta’s burning (did a little digging and looked up that they do in fact have kids 😭😭 and both r twins, lari & kai) navier is so mother

IT REALLY IS SO SOAP OPERA-ISH, it got all the dramatics of indian serials, turkish shows, telenovelas, kdramas and more like this combo is insane

yOOOOO MCKENNA IS A UNDERRATED BEAUTY !!!!!

no bc im also convinced, his eyes have this little glint of mischievousness,,, he & heinry are the duo, just like woosan 😭😭 i want him to lead to her downfall honestly

no bc dad lore is so fun???? LMFAOOOO THATS SO CUTE 😭😭😭 my dad looks very scary irl but i saw him yesterday w a cap on jumping to 50cent having his hands doing hang signs and i just “????”

oh to be sungho and see those muscles bfwmjdka “SINCE THE BABYS ALREADY ASLEEP” OKAY SIR OKAY OKAY TAKE US WITH, why are they so married couple core already

omg haebom 😭😭😭 WDYM “my bad” ????? YALL KISSED HOW IS IT MY BAD FHWNDJKSDKSL,, he really is a grumpy with his brightest sunshine 😔😔

HES SO HUGE STOP IT CHAERSSSS

LMFAOOOO THAT MEME FRHWKHDKW NAVIER JUST THERE JVDMSJCK

yes it is!!!! super controversial at that time but honestly a pretty good topic, it’s a 2000’s movie and yea worth a watch!!

no bc felt, everything’s boring these days maybe it’s the seasonal depression ya’know,, all we can do is manifest a love story with a man like wi ha joon in the worst of evil 🥰🥰

[inkykeiji]

break my heart in two, but when it heals it beats for you

character: zenin naoya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaaah this is my lil submission for the sewer’s soulmate syndrome collab (and my first collab ever waaah!!!) it’s a curseless soulmate AU with the tiniest hint of the zenin’s being a prominent crime family. please please heed the warnings!! | title credit: back to you by selena gomez

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, incest (reader and naoya are half siblings), mentioned death of a family member (mother), naoya being his misogynistic self, excessive use of the word ‘Daddy’ to refer to their biological father, one (1) instance of physical abuse, size kink/size difference, mentioned relationship between a university student (reader) and their TA, infidelity, one (1) mention of Daddy being yakuza, age difference, spanking done by reader’s biological father, toxic relationships, minimal prep, rough sex, a hint of degradation

words: 9.5k

synopsis:

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the very moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

It’s a few days after his twenty-ninth birthday, the night you appear—unannounced, uninvited, and an absolute fucking mess—falling into his father’s arms the moment he opens the door, fingers curling in the material of his cashmere button up and tugging as powerful sobs rip through your entire body, violent tremors following.

It’s fucking disgusting, the way his father reacts. Naoya watches the entire thing unfold from the shadows of the living room, nose wrinkled in distaste, features twisted in aversion and saturated in abhorrence.

Because his father lets you cling to him like a child—a grown woman, gripping a seventy-one year old man like a sniveling little girl—as he manages to scoop you up into his arms, collapsing onto his favourite armchair with you in his lap, hushing you gently as he rocks you back and forth, large hands stroking your shuddering back as you nuzzle your puffy, snot-stained face into his chest, wailing out Daddy!

It’s the first time Naoya’s ever seen his father behave in such a way, revolt churning his stomach as he observes the quite frankly unfamiliar man in front of him. It makes him fucking sick to watch, acidic bile rising in his throat until it stings the back of his tongue, face souring as he swallows it back down.

And you can’t even manage to force words through your stuttering breathing and hiccupped little sobs, unable to explain the situation at all without being overwhelmed by another fresh wave of tears, crashing over your body as you fall back into the sanctuary of his father’s arms, face buried in his neck, now soiled with spit and salt water.

“Naoya,” his father calls, voice curt and stern and demanding, snapping Naoya’s gaze to his own in an instant. “A glass of water, please?”

Naoya scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck do I look like to you? The help?”

And Naoya’s no stranger to the level gaze his father fixes him with, has seen that same look etched into his father’s face more times than he can count, eyebrows pinched and mouth pressed in a firm, fine line, chest rising as he inhales slowly, calmly, deeply, then exhales through flared nostrils.

“You look like a good big brother who’s on his way to get his baby sister some water,”

Ah, right, that’s who you are—the bastard, Daddy’s little mistake, an ugly, irreversible stain on their family’s prestigious name.

“That bitch is not my sister,” he grumbles as he stomps from the room and towards the kitchen to fetch you a drink, huffing under his breath about being treated like a fucking woman, yet obeying his father’s orders nonetheless.

It turns out, Naoya learns, that your mother has passed away, leaving his poor bastard of a baby sister all alone in the world, with nowhere to go—and you’ve come here to ask for shelter and food, just until you get on your feet.

It’s fucking pathetic, as far as Naoya’s concerned, shaking his head in condescending disbelief with a cruel snort. It’s almost difficult to believe that you, undoubtedly the family disgrace; you, with your dirty blood and the dishonour you haul around everywhere with you, have the balls to come crawling to his father begging for support. You’re an adult, for Christ’s sake, and you should act like one, should be out scouring the earth for some equally pathetic man to serve like you ought to, like you would have, if you knew your place. Maybe then, Naoya would have a shred of respect for you.

Maybe.  

“How selfish. Daddy already pays for your tuition, why should he provide you with housing, too? Are you really that incompetent? Can’t do a thing for yourself, huh?”

Your head whips around to face him, almost as if you’re startled by his presence, by his voice addressing you directly, a sharp gasp falling from your lips the moment your eyes meet.

It’s the first time you’ve actually looked at him since you’ve arrived, the first time your gaze has connected with his, eyes bloodshot and gleaming as crystal tears stream down your cheeks, excess water clinging to spidery lashes, clumped together in spikes.

God, you’re beautiful.

It kicks him right in the motherfucking chest, hard enough that he stumbles back a few feet into the stone fireplace, a hand gripping the mantle for stability while his body caves in on itself. A spear of agony sears through his body, slicing clean through all of his vital organs as you choke out an apology punctuated with an honorific, head shaking in jerky little motions as your tongue struggles to form words to explain yourself.

And he’s never felt anything like it in his entire life, skin feeling as though it’s been set ablaze from the inside, thick black smoke filling is lungs as he wheezes on an inhale, strangled by it.

“Naoya,” his father snaps, eyes wide and scorching. “Leave.”

Each step away from the living room feels heavier than the last, as if his blood’s been replaced by lead, by rapidly drying concrete, rendering him incapable of lifting his feet from the floor, dragging them against the tile until it’s fucking painful, calves and thighs tingling as if the blood flow’s been entirely obstructed, muscles quivering and exhausted.

“It’s okay,” he can hear his father’s faint voice soothing you, each of your sniffles feeling like a sharp little thorn straight to his heart, each of your tiny I’m sorry’s carving out a vacant, phantom wound in his chest. “Shh, it’s alright, Daddy’s here, Daddy’s got you,”

“Pathetic,” Naoya spits to the empty hallway, though the word wavers, catching a little in his throat, letters scraping the gummy walls as he forces them from his mouth, leaving scalding little blisters in its wake.

It’s then that Naoya decides he hates you; standing motionless in the dark  hallway, feet inexplicably bolted to the floor and chest burning with some unknown emotion, a fire that blazes and rages, flares and thrashes, with each of your hitched little apologies, his teeth clenched together so tightly he’s surprised they don’t crack.

But it’s only after your sobs have calmed, father having reduced them to soft sniffles and half-hiccups through tender words and sweet affirmations, only after Naoya knows that you’ll be staying here for the night—that you’ll be safe—that he regains control over his limbs, that he rips his cement-filled feet from the floor and trudges towards his bedroom, scalding inferno dulled to simmering coals and faint flickering cinders.

He doesn’t think about it—isn’t going to think about it, refuses to waste his time or energy on such absurdity, refuses to allow his father’s preposterous decisions and ridiculous sentiments soak up space in his consciousness.

And he absolutely refuses to think about is the way your sudden presence punched a sharp gasp from his chest, the way he suddenly feels incomplete, like something’s missing, now that you aren’t within arms-reach, the way that he lost control over his entire body for the first time in his fucking life, in that hallway, just a few moments ago.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

His father—your father—falls in love with you almost immediately; having only met you briefly a few times before this, despite sending your mother multiple cheques every month for over twenty years.

It’s truly deplorable, positively sickening to watch the way his eyes light up when you come skipping into the living room after your afternoon university classes, dropping a fat, almost obscene kiss to Daddy’s cheek before plopping down on his lap as you chatter on about your day—about what you learned in lecture today, about the essay you got back (top of your class, of course), about your cute TA with the white hair and crystal eyes who always seems to conjure a bashful expression the moment you mention his name.

Naoya watches the entire thing unfold day after day, a deep sneer etched into his face, jaw clenched so hard it begins to ache, light eyes glaring daggers in your direction.

Something akin to jealousy, a creature with glowing emerald eyes and gnashing teeth and razor claws that slash and tear at the pit of his belly, roars and rattles the ribs that keep it caged within his chest, gnawing on the bones every time his—your—father makes you giggle, your eyes sparkling with adoration as you gaze at him; every time lithe fingers brush hair back from your face or a large palm settles on the crown of you head, petting you gently; every time you nuzzle into his neck, curling up comfortably—perfectly—in Daddy’s big, strong arms that keep you protected from all of the bad, from all of the evils of this world, from him, the big brother that loathes you.

It’s unsettling, almost sad in a sense, seeing his father fall from grace, observing the way you decay his persona so quickly, eating away at it like corrosive acid, rotting him from the inside out; the way he morphs from one of the most powerful and feared Yakuza bosses into soft, sticky, sweet putty in your hands the moment you appear; the way your presence shatters his tough, hard exterior and renders him gentle and tender—gentler and tenderer than he’s ever behaved with Naoya or any of his older brothers.

He can’t fucking stand to watch it, despises every single thing about it, positively detests the inexplicable, uncontrollable sensations that thrash and thunder inside of him, an unusual mixture of envy and melancholy, of wrath and desire, combined to create something toxic, something hazardous, something uncontainable that erodes his senses and mind, leaking into his bloodstream and poisoning his thoughts.

Because his gaze stays glued to you the moment you enter a room, like he’s bewitched by you, cursed by you the way his father has become, unable to rip his eyes from your form until you exit.

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

And the worst part, the worst part is that he hasn’t a clue why. He doesn’t know why he feels the way he does, why you evoke such strong emotions—emotions he’s never felt before, emotions he doesn’t have a name for—or why, suddenly, everything feels wrong, off, whenever you’re not around.

It’s fucking annoying. Those tiny, raised bumps on the inside of his wrist—shaped in the form of a zodiac constellation, a mark everyone is born with, a mark that supposedly hints at your soulmate—burn and tingle as he meditates on these notions, blunt nails scratching viciously at his skin.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

Daddy grants you permission to stay at the estate for as long as you’d like, because of course he does, a victim to the spell you’ve cast. He even gives you your own room, helps you pick out furniture and takes you shopping for new clothes. You promise to do your share around the house—pinky swear—and, to Naoya’s immense dissatisfaction, you don’t disappoint.

No. Instead, you excel.

Those pretty little words weren’t empty promises—you begin cooking all of the meals, taking on the task to do the dishes entirely by yourself, tending to the house and the garden outside, even going as far to aid the help in their daily cleaning routines, until Daddy tells you it isn’t necessary.

And you manage to capture almost everyone’s hearts through your deeds and duties, through your kind and compassionate nature, through your being attentive and, for the most part, obedient—but most important of all, being family oriented.

You do the laundry when it needs to be done. You keep the house spotless and the kitchen sparkling. You learn everyone’s favourite dishes and then dedicate hours upon hours to perfecting them.

Naoya observes you throughout it all, sharp eyes following your movements, watching as you expertly tend to everyone’s needs, almost as if you know what they’ll require before they do.

You’d be perfect wife material, if you weren’t his sister—he catches the thought as it drifts through his mind—a sentiment that’s almost involuntary, unthinking in nature— and strangles it with his bare hands, stomps on it until it’s nothing but dust.

Because what’s more infuriating than anything else is that you are a good woman, a perfect woman, a woman who—for the most part—understands her place and duty in the household; or, at least, you did, before Daddy began spoiling you rotten.

It earns you the nickname princess from your favourite nii-san, hissed through gritted teeth with narrowed eyes and scrunched up noses, drenched in condescension and sprinkled with artificial icing sugar—a nickname Daddy irritatingly and affectionately adopts, extracting all of the patronization Naoya had imbued it with and stuffing it full of love.

You aren’t invincible, though, no matter how precious you are, how sweet your voice becomes when you bat your eyelashes and fix a pout on your lips, how much Daddy is barely able to deny you.

Because Daddy’s incessant spoiling does eventually bite him in the ass, just like Naoya knew it would.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

“But Daddy,” you whine, wearing your prettiest pout and cutest puppy-dog eyes, lethal weapons that are nearly foolproof, your most cherished expressions that grant you almost everything you want. “It’ll just be for a little, I promise! Just a drink or two!”

“I said no—”

“But everyone’s going! Even my professors will be there; I’m expected to show up!” Voice rising in pitch, your arms cross over your chest as eyebrows knit deeply and a lip juts out further, looking about two seconds away from stomping your foot.

Naoya would be amused, really, to see a grown woman acting like a petulant fucking child over some inconsequential party being thrown by the department, if he didn’t feel like his heart was ripping itself to pieces with your teary expression and soft half-sniffles, with the knowledge that, if you attend, you’ll be with him.

“You have an exam tomorrow,” Daddy reminds you in a sigh, dipping his head to scrutinize you over the rim of his reading glasses. “Are they not all required to write the same exam as well?”

“Well, they are, but—”

“But they didn’t spend their study break out gallivanting with their TA, did they?”

Your eyes widen for a second, shocked by the words leaving your father’s mouth, but the expression is gone in an instant, morphed into incredulousness, eyes rolling as your tongue tuts in disbelief.

“Please, we were studying,”

The chuckle that escapes your father’s lips is anything but warm; it’s cruel and condescending, a sharp slap to the face, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as he snaps his book shut, the sound echoing throughout the living room.

“You must think me a real fool,” he’s almost snickering as he throws his glasses on the coffee table, grunting a little as he stands from his armchair and raises himself to his full height, towering over you. “Do you think Daddy’s stupid?”

“What? No, of course not—”  

“Then why are you lying to him?”

“I-I’m not—”

“And you’re doing it again?”

Head shaking in jerky, quivering movements, your lips open and close, emitting nothing more but little squeaks of breath as you try to backtrack, managing to stammer out an apology.

“It’s a little late for that,” your father’s saying sternly, a large hand curling around your bicep as he yanks you towards him, beginning to haul you down the hall. “Good girls do not lie to their fathers,”

Naoya sits tense and coiled in his father’s armchair, a symphony of your cries mingled with harsh slaps of Daddy’s calloused palm against your smooth skin carrying throughout the house, and he swallows thickly, past the lump that’s lodged itself in the column of his throat, past the bitter acid rising in his chest, past the irregular thumping of his heart against his ribs.

Because he doesn’t know why your wails and squeals of Daddy! M’sorry! Daddy! make his cock throb and his chest ache—ache with longing, with want and desire, with jealousy—doesn’t know why he finds himself fucking his fist to those memories that same night, mind fixated on the quick glance he had caught through the sliver of the open door when he couldn’t stand it anymore, when he had to sneak down the hallway just to make sure everything was alright, images of you thrown over father’s knees, bare ass spanked raw materializing in his head.

Or maybe he does know. Maybe he refuses to admit it. Maybe he just pretends he doesn’t, because he wishes he didn’t.

Still, you always get off fucking easy, as far as Naoya’s concerned. He’s never witnessed his father allow any woman to talk back to him with such horrid disrespect, to whine and plead and roll their eyes without a backhand so heavy, so hard it knocks them to the floor.

And yet, you receive a few measly spanks to your ass—a punishment that’s more embarrassing than anything else, terribly unfit for a grown woman—and get sent to your room for the rest of the night.  

“She truly is Daddy’s Little Girl,” his mother had snarled after one particular punishment, features curled up in an unattractive sneer.

Naoya can’t help but begrudgingly agree.

      ✰          ✰          ✰

“Oh, lighten up,” one of his brothers nudges his foot with the toe of his slipper before collapsing next to him one abnormally cold evening in early October, interrupting Naoya’s nightly routine of glaring at you, cuddled up into Daddy’s side as you watch a show. “Just because you aren’t Daddy’s favourite anymore doesn’t mean you have to skulk around looking like you just ate a whole lemon,”

“What’re you on about,” Naoya seethes through clenched teeth, glancing at his older brother through the corner of his eye.

“You know,” he responds airily with a knowing smirk, nodding his head in your direction. “She’s taken your place, huh? Or is that not what’s upsetting you?”

And that hurts—it hurts, because he used to be Daddy’s favourite, Daddy’s youngest—the baby—Daddy’s spoiled brat. He’s used to being the center of Daddy’s attention, used to being the object of his praise, used to being the golden child, the prized child, the destined son nurtured and conditioned to take over the Family Business once his father retires.

Light eyes roll back in his skull as he tsks in disapproval, shaking his head and clearing his throat to rid the tremble from his voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Mm, I think I know more than you believe,”

The words are spoken in a murmur, only loud enough for the two of them to hear, but Naoya’s gaze snaps back to his face immediately as he calls your name, gently pulling you from the hushed conversation you were having with Daddy, full of giggles and murmurs, nonchalantly asking, “When’s your birthday?”

No.

No, Naoya wants to hiss at his pathetic excuse of a brother, large hands curling into quivering fists, nails biting into the fleshy heels of his palms as teeth grit, forcefully swallowing back down the two letter refutation.

No-no-no-no-no, he doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t need to know, throat constricting as you inhale to speak, chirpily responding.

Blood turns to thick ice in his veins when he hears your birth date, when he realizes those raised little bumps he was born with on the inside of his wrist match your zodiac sign. Heavy dread, black and poisonous and akin to thick disappointment, sinks in his chest, latching onto the floor of his stomach and spreading quickly, sticky as it engulfs all of his surrounding organs, coating them in acidic pollution.

He’s up and out of his seat before his brother has even finished asking you his next question, stumbling out of the room on unsteady legs, nearly tripping over his own ankles in his haste to get away from you, to escape.

He doesn’t want to know what the bumps on your inner wrist are, tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care, that this is all bullshit anyway, century-old myths created by the dreamers and the sentimentalists. It isn’t like the prospect hadn’t already crossed his mind—drifting through a sick orgasmic haze after fucking his fist to the memory of you—the potential that you may be his ‘soulmate’, a cruel trick played on him by the gods. Except…

Except it isn’t real. It isn’t real. There’s no science backing it up, nothing to concretely prove that the zodiac constellation embedded in his skin has anything to do with his ‘soulmate’—or anyone else’s. It’s just a legend, an old wives tale made up for the romantics and nothing else.

In his alacrity to resist it, he turns fucking ruthless in his verbal assault, but nothing seems to deter you; it barely seems to phase you at all, carrying on your tasks or your cute little babbling as if he hadn’t just insulted you.

Because you’re incessant, almost desperate to gain his approval, continuing to treat him like a god—doing more for him than you do for anyone else, including Daddy—regardless of how many how many expletives and offensive sentiments he hurls at you.

And eventually, he goes a little too far.

    ✰          ✰          ✰ 

The night before Halloween is dark and dreary, thick grey clouds stuffed with rain that continuously drizzles over the estate, brutal winds whipping the tiny droplets against the windowpanes, tiny specks and splatters of water decorating the glass, rearranging themselves every time the wind throws another smattering of rain towards them.

You skip into the living room, full of bashful giggles and muted squeals as Daddy fawns over you, awestricken as he murmurs about how beautiful his princess looks.

His princess.  

Naoya’s not quite sure what you’re supposed to be, nor does he care, tearing his gaze from your scantily clad form before his brain can even register what the costume is, before blood can rush to his cock, before he can witness the shy little smile on your lips and the pretty way your eyes glitter as you twirl for Daddy.

No, the only thing Naoya cares about is the fact that the dress of your costume is way too short to be considered decent, fluffy petticoat barely covering your ass, fanning out to reveal the edges of dainty pink lace clinging to the supple flesh of your ass as you twist and turn.

And he hasn’t a clue what you’re chattering on about, isn’t listening, can’t hear anything over the roar of blood rushing in his ears as he stands from his seat and stomps towards you, strong, callous voice cutting off your excited babbling as he glowers expectantly at his father.

“Jesus Christ, Daddy, you aren’t actually going to let her go out in that, are you?”

“Why?” you ask before your father can respond, genuinely confused, head tilting cutely. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he repeats incredulously, thick eyelashes fluttering as he blinks several times, eyebrows raising and huffing out a sarcastic laugh in disbelief. “Are you joking?”

Your head shakes slowly, a frown beginning to materialize on your lips as your eyebrows knit.

“It’s entirely inappropriate,” he scoffs, enunciating his words slowly, like you’re stupid.

You stare up at him cautiously, bottom lip jutting out in a pout so deep your chin puckers. “But nii-san, it’s Halloween—”

“Oh? And what are you going as, a slut?”

A little strangled gasp of Naoya-nii! hitches in your throat, your entire expression crumpling at his disapproval, hands running over the costume in an almost protective manner, smoothing it down.

“N-No, I’m—”

“I don’t care,” he hisses. “There’s no way you’re leaving the house in that—go change. Now.”

The direct order surprises you, shock saturating your features before resentment begins to bleed through. Blinking hard, you force the tears from your eyes, expression hardening and shoulders rolling back, spine straightening.

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I said no,”

That sharp, self-assured smile drops from his face in an instant, face screwing up from such defiance, such disrespect. “Excuse me?”

Shivers skitter up your spine, tiny spikes of ice chasing them, but you refuse to back down, even though your voice is beginning to quiver.

“Y-You’re not Daddy! You don’t get to tell me what to do, I don’t care if you’re older!”

And just like that, the sharp smile is back, stretched abnormally wide across his lips—like it had been cut, carved, into his handsome face—uncanny and inhuman as his eyes glint with malevolence, words flowing from his mouth slowly, calmly, almost serenely, as he prowls towards you.

“You’re right—I’m not Daddy, because I would never let a woman speak to me the way he allows you to speak to him, you ungrateful little brat,”

A large hand, decorated with chunky, glittering gold rings, cuts through the air, striking you across the cheek with such force you stumble backwards from the impact, nearly tripping over your own feet only to have Daddy wrap a strong arm around your waist, catching you with ease and pulling you to his chest.

And it’s intense, so intense it kicks the breath right from your chest, barreling up your throat where you choke on it as it tangles with a sharp yelp. Hands fly to clutch your cheek immediately, throbbing thorns of pain shooting through the side of your face.

Daddy’s yelling, but it all sounds muddled, muffled, like your deep underwater and he’s shouting from above the surface, despite the fact that you’re clinging to him, pressed up so tightly against his side you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his body.

Naoya-nii isn’t saying anything, hand dropped limply to his side, pretty gold adorning his fingers coated in gleaming crimson. He isn’t even looking at Daddy—no, his gorgeous light eyes are focused on you, on the sticky scarlet leaking from the wounds his rings left when they collided with your cheek and the glistening tears shielding your eyes.

And for once, he has nothing to say, no sarcastic remarks or cynical little comments, voice evaporating in his throat as his chest burns, scathed with regret, remorse, repentance—all unwarranted, undeserved, unnecessary. Because—because you earned that slap for being so fucking disrespectful; you needed it, were practically begging him to put you back in your place, back where you belong: below him, behind him, and never beside him.

Because no matter how cute you are, how sweet and precious and good, none of it permits you to speak to him in such a manner, to act as though you’re equal.

So why has this inexplicable agony taken root at his core? Why does he feel like his heart is mutilating itself, tearing itself to shreds, with each of your pitiful little whimpers? Why does he feel the overwhelming urge to make it better, to make your pretty tears and precious sobs stop?

Inevitable anger surges through his veins—furious at you, for eliciting such bothersome emotions; furious at himself, for being so weak, so vulnerable, and allowing such pathetic sentiments to take over, to rob him of his control, of his autonomy.

And despite everything, all of his rage and loathing and confusion, his hand buzzes from it, from the sensation of touching your soft skin for the very first time, even in such a brutal and malicious manner, and instantly, he craves more.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t speak to him after that. You stop making his favourite meals, stop asking him about his day and then uninvitedly reciting your own in that cute, excited chatter that is so distinctly you, stop doing all of those extra little chores—washing his clothes and changing his sheets and scrubbing his bathroom until it sparkles. You put an end to everything.

And he fucking misses it.

He shouldn’t, but he does.

It’s painful to admit, but he can’t ignore it, notices your lack of presence almost immediately, that gaping void spreading, growing, as it roars in protest, claiming more and more of his body every day, like some sort of inky disease that only your presence seems to calm, to cure.

It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks, because he can’t stop it, regardless of how hard he tries, an impossible ailment he can’t void himself of. It fucking sucks, because you’re eating him up, consuming his very soul, devouring him from the inside out without even sparing him a goddamn glance—and you don’t even know it.

And it’s getting exhausting, putting up this front all the time, fighting against the intense feelings you swirl around in his chest, in his cock, without a hope, without a chance in hell. Fighting for nothing, because he knows he’ll never win. Fighting for nothing, because he isn’t sure he wants to anymore.

They’re unruly, voracious and rabid, tearing up his chest, his lungs and his heart and his throat, with sharp piercing claws and becoming increasingly difficult to overlook, to disregard.

Still, he’s too stubborn, too proud, to give in, to give up, even though the thing living inside him grows stronger every day, even though he knows that one day, it will overpower him.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s windy—the estate quiet as the wind howls softly through the dense pines outside and ruffles them—the night it finally does, the night it takes over entirely, bursting through the barriers he keeps rebuilding and repairing around his soul and his sanity, writhing inside him when he hears soft sobs, muffled by the wood of your bedroom door, just past three in the morning.

It possesses him, like some sort of eternal spirit sinking deep into his bones and sewing itself into his soul, revoking his control over his body as a sudden, intense need to comfort you, to find out what’s wrong and make it all better, courses through his veins, entirely unaware of his actions as he pushes past the door and into your room.

“Naoya-nii?”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him, the first time you’ve even looked at him, since he struck you.

And he aches to apologize, I’m sorry’s and I shouldn’t have done that’s blistering his throat as they linger, just behind the back of his tongue.

But his pride outweighs them by a hair, despite how much his chest stings with the need to make things better, to make things right, for a reason unbeknownst to him. It’s just a sense—vague in meaning but strong in feeling—that longs for reconciliation, that’s desperate to rid your pretty face from the permanent scowl his presence etches into it.

That’s the first time he creeps into your room, the first time he loses his autonomy to the thing inside of him as he takes you into his arms and comforts you, the first time he allows you to cum from grinding on his cock.

Except it becomes a habit, an addiction, a nightly routine, cravings becoming stronger and stronger with each passing night. And for a brief span of time, it’s enough to appease the creature, the short nights spent with you in his arms, body trembling against his as you whimper out his name and his honorific, tangling on your tongue.

Because it feels right. It feels righter than anything in his life ever has, uncharacteristically gentle hands guiding your hips as they rock against his, soaked cunt gliding over the flannel of his pajama pants with ease as you huff out the prettiest little mewls into his neck.

It feels right only when he’s here with you, alone with you. Suddenly, it’s like everything makes sense again, like the world is in colour again, like the planet balanced again. He can no longer deny this feeling, this ache deep at the very pit of his soul that throbs and stings and burns mercilessly without your presence. You’re the only thing that can heal it, that can quell it, that can complete it.

So he gives in. It’s just for the nights, he promises himself, vows never to allow such sentiments to trickle into the daytime, to save it for when the sun sinks beneath the horizon, pledges never to permit these nightly escapades to advance from anything more than dry humping, nothing further than your cum on his fingers and your thighs stained with sticky cream.

But eventually, that isn’t enough, either.

And he was stupid to think it would be.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

The harsh slap of Testoni loafers against stone echoes out among the immaculately landscaped front yard, bouncing off thin tree trunks and being absorbed by tall, thick shrubs. Silver light, cast by the haloed moon hanging high in the clear navy sky, illuminates the garden, the foliage faded and washed out, painted by the moonbeams. Somewhere in the distance, the gentle trickle of water mingles with Naoya’s harsh breaths, cellphone gripped tightly in one fist as he paces back and forth like a rabid dog, small rocks popping under his feet.

It’s late. It’s too late—you were supposed to be home hours ago. Naoya’s tried calling—seven times, now, his phone buzzing in his palm to warn him of a low battery—but you haven’t picked up once. But that isn’t new, nor is it unusual; you rarely answer his calls while you’re out with Satoru.

So, really, this shouldn’t be cause for alarm. It shouldn’t.

Except he knows the man you’re out with, knows what you’re doing with him, and he can’t get it out of his fucking head, assaulted with fabricated images of you trapped under a large man with ivory hair and crystal eyes, back arching in ecstasy, his name leaving your lips in the prettiest gasps, in the way Naoya’s name leaves your lips during his habitual sneaking into your room in the middle of the night.

He’s terrified it’s going to drive him insane, eyes pricking and throat burning as his nose twitches with the threat of tears, eyelids shut so tightly his whole face scrunches up, tense and crumpled every time a new wave of contrived memories of you cumming all over that asshole’s cock crash over his mind.

Copper stings his tongue as sharp front teeth nibble at the raw cuticles surrounding his nailbed, face puckering at the taste and ripping his thumb, glistening with saliva, from his mouth.

This is pathetic, goddamn it! It shouldn’t even matter who you’re with and what you’re doing with them, shouldn’t be any of Naoya’s concern at all whether you’re safe or not, shouldn’t fucking hurt nearly as much as it does, a heavy ache that weighs on his chest more and more and more as each second ticks by, ribs caving in and splintering under the force, snapping into sharp spikes that puncture his lungs and make it painful to breathe.

“This is such a waste of fucking time, I don’t even—” he’s muttering to himself when you step out of Satoru’s car, his internal monologue beginning to leak from his head out his lips, your presence immediately cutting it off as his head snaps up, light eyes paler than normal, practically glowing in the moonlight.

A startled little whimper pries its way past your lips when you see him, stomping towards you with a heaving chest and a growl ripping from his throat.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he’s seething as a large hand seizes your arm, wrapping around your bicep and yanking, bring your face closer to his. “Huh? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

Frenzied eyes search your face, wild and erratic in their movements, sharply zeroing in on the tiny galaxies of swirling lilac and cobalt peppered with little pinpricks of scarlet that’ve been sucked into the flesh of your neck.

He chokes on something—a gasp or a snarl or a sob, maybe a mixture of all three, you aren’t entirely sure—pearly teeth gnashing together. “You’re a little slut,” he spits the word out like venom, harsh and biting as it whizzes past your cheek, slicing into your skin.

“That’s it, that’s all—that’s all you’re fucking good for,” his grip tightens with each word that flows from his mouth. “At least you’ve picked a rich man to sell your pussy to, at least you aren’t a total idiot, just like your mother, huh?”

“What is your problem?” little hands claw at the fingers latched around you, finally breaking free from him, ripping your limb from his grasp with such vigor you nearly fall on your ass, teetering backwards on unsteady feet. “You know, just because you can’t own up and face your feelings, doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Isn’t my fault.”

“This?” he spits, face screwing up in scorn. “There is no this,”

“Oh my God,” eyes rolling, you shake your head, exhaling a dubious laugh. “Shut up. There’s no one here—you can be real with me, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” you snark, arms crossing over your chest as you level your gaze with him.

He glares back at you, sharp jaw rhythmically clenching and unclenching with the grinding of his molars, large hands balled into tight, trembling fists on either side of his body.

“You know there’s something here, between us, within us, even if you refuse to admit it,” you continue after a beat of silence, voice softening.

His whole form is beginning to quiver and he jerkily shakes his head, exhaling harshly. You think he may be crying, but in the faint moonlight it’s hard to be sure.

Holding your wrist up, you swallow thickly, glancing at those little bumps embedded in your skin, watching the tiny shadows that form when your arm twists. “I have your sign,” your voice is quiet as you look back at him, flashing the inside of your wrist to him. “And I know you have mine,”

A cynical smirk spreads across his lips, but it looks more like a grimace, like a flimsy mask desperately attempting to cover something else, tongue tutting in disbelief. “Yeah, and there’s millions of people in this world with any given sign. It’s all bullshit—it could be anyone,”

“It could be anyone,” you agree, nodding. “But it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! I know you feel it too! Christ, why are you so—so adamant on denying this, even when it’s just the two of us? What’s the point?”

“You’re my fucking sister, that’s the point. This is inappropriate, it’s wrong,”

“If it’s so wrong, then why do you sneak into my bedroom every night? Why do you let me cum on your fingers? Why do you fuck my thighs?” your footsteps speed up, jogging a little to catch up to him. “Huh? Huh? No answer? Or do you know the answer, and you’re too afraid to say it?”

“I don’t know!” he explodes, whirling around on you and trapping you against the brick, palms laid flat against the wall. “Alright? I don’t fucking know why I do those things. They make me feel sick afterwards, but I…”

But I can’t stop.

But I need you.

But I love you.

Chests heave with harsh exhales that mingle and echo in the garden, your eyes studying his face intently, in a way that makes him feel naked, exposed, makes him want to turn and hide from you.

“I’m not asking—” you start, words catching in your throat and blinking hard to clear rapidly welling tears from your eyes. Your voice is softer, more fragile and weak, when you speak again. “You don’t have to marry me, for Christ’s sake. I just—I just want you to—I need to know you feel it too,”

“Why?” he hisses, acidic envy bubbling in his chest, beginning to erode his resolve, walls crumbling to rubble. “What is there to know? You already have him,”

“But I’d rather have you,” the words materialize on your tongue before you even know what you’re saying, earnest eyes boring into his.

“God, don’t—” eyelids shut tightly, lithe fingers tangling in blonde hair and tugging. “Don’t say shit like that,”

He can feel them, those three little words thrashing in his chest, desperate to claw up his throat and spill from his lips, but he grits his teeth and swallows them back down, letters lodging and forming a painful lump.

And you notice. You notice, because you’ve studied him extensively, have learned to read him—his mannerisms, expressions, behaviours—well.

And you’ve just found his weakness.

“Do you want to know what I think of when he fucks me?” you ask, eyes searching his face in an almost frenzied manner, breath accelerating as you quickly push the words from your lips, worried if you don’t speak fast enough, if you don’t vocalize these sentiments now, you’ll lose him again. “It’s you. It’s always you. I’ve tried—I’ve tried to think of someone else, of anyone else, but you just…you just won’t leave my brain! It’s like a—a sickness, or something. Like a chronic illness, and it’s only getting worse,”

A strangled growl rattles in his chest as he tears himself away from you, fists violently rubbing at his eyes.

He knows. He knows, because he’s tried the same thing, attempted to desperately forget you, to disintegrate the weird feelings you endlessly evoke in his chest by losing himself in women night after night, often multiple women at once, drowning himself in their moans and gasps and soft bodies to no avail.

“There’s no cure,”

He doesn’t even mean to say it, words slipping from his lips unconsciously as he gets tangled in his thoughts, flipping through the countless memories of faceless women of all shapes and sizes, faceless woman that somehow always mange to morph into you.

“No,” you respond, shaking your head. “There isn’t. But at least I’m trying!”

He spins around, gleaming eyes flashing, brimming with bewilderment, features falling in surprise for just a moment before they harden again, varnished in offense.

“What’re you talking about,” he seethes, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his eyes narrow into sharp slits, scrutinizing, analyzing, dissecting.

“I-I’d rather have you, yes, and he’ll—no one will ever compare, will ever even come close to how much I—” you cut yourself off, swallowing the thought, then clearing your throat and beginning again. “At least I’m trying to find someone, though. At least I’m trying to find just a shred of what I feel for you, instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, alone and miserable,”

“Oh,” he laughs humorlessly, a callous little sound that viciously tears from his chest, that scrapes his throat and comes out strangled, full of incredulity. “You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried endlessly to forget you? To cleanse you from my mind? To move the fuck on from something that had never begun in the first place? You’ve imprinted yourself in the tissues of my fucking brain in a matter of months. It’s tiring. It’s hopeless,”

His voice breaks on the last word, some of the merciless heat fading from his features as he glares at you, eyes almost pleading for you to understand.

Because you’re the only one that can.

You’ve been in this together the entire time, right from the start, from the moment you walked through that front door.

And he’s been resisting it, fighting against it, against himself, all while the current only becomes stronger, only continues to grow in strength and size, and he’s motherfucking exhausted at this point, sick of battling some invisible force he was convinced didn’t even exist, sick of waging a war he will forever be destined to lose.

You’ve broken that wall, shattered it to dust, destroyed all of his weapons of defense and robbed him of his sovereignty, and now it’s all pouring form his mouth, an endless, uncontrollable stream of confessions, of thoughts and desires, of agony and misery.

“But it doesn’t even fucking matter, because I love you. I love you and I fucking hate you for it. And I’ve been trying, alright? I’ve tried not to, I’ve tried every single trick in the fucking book to stop it, to get over you, to forget you—and none of it has ever fucking worked, not even for a second. I don’t want you; I—I don’t want to be, but I’m in love with you,”

It looks as though your breathing has ceased, chest halting in its rapid movements, body gone still, static, stagnant. Your silence is deafening, has his ears ringing and his heart pounding, thrashing against his ribs as it aimlessly attempts to crawl through the cage, to present itself to you, bloody and beating and all yours. It’s all yours—take it, kill it, end its suffering.

“And there’s nothing—”

Surging forward, your lips crash into his, body following as it smacks against his own, effectively cutting him off. Naoya freezes, eyes wide and breathing stopped, entire body turned to ice, rigid and tense, but you are not deterred, arms winding around his neck as fingers thread through the gold and ink at the base of his skull.

“I love you, too,” you mumble into the kiss, refusing to break contact for even a second, lips brushing his as you speak. “I love you so much,”

The confession—an admission he already knew, deep down in his very bones, an admission he can no longer ignore, now that you’ve said it—snaps him out of his trance, and something switches, something breaks. Because then he’s kissing you back, tongue forcing its way through your lips to assault your own as calloused hands find purchase on your hips, squeezing your flesh hard enough that you yelp.

He chuckles against your lips, and then he’s pushing forward, forcing you to walk backwards, too fast for you to keep up, his legs longer than yours, body bigger than yours, stronger than yours.

Even with all of his shoving, you still aren’t moving quick enough for him, clumsy and stumbling over your own feet, whimpering hushed apologies into his mouth, a response to the growls that rumble in his chest each time you trip, your pitiful little sorry!’s consistently being cut off by his tongue.

Large hands hoist you up without breaking the kiss, mouth still attempting to devour you whole, to suck up your very soul, and your legs automatically wrap around his waist, latching onto him.

Either of your bedrooms are too far, and he can’t take it, he can’t wait—not with the way your fingers are tangling in his shirt and tugging, the way needy little whines are hitching in your throat, the way you’re squirming in his grasp, trying to grind against his half-hard cock.

You’re fucking desperate, but so is he, thigh whacking off the edge of the wooden coffee table as he blindly staggers towards the kitchen, tongue hungrily dragging against yours while he does so.

The cold marble stings your skin as he deposits you onto the nearest countertop, hips wedged between your thighs keeping them spread.

Little fingers immediately go for his belt, nonsensical whimpers sounding in the back of your throat as you fumble and struggle, hooking your fingers through his beltloops and pulling.

“Eager girl,” he chastises, a little breathless as nimble fingers find the soaked lace at the apex of your thighs, pushing it to the side. “Nii-san has to prep you first,”

“No,” you whine, pitched high and much too loud. “M’wet enough. Want you, want you now, nii-san, please, just give it to me, been waiting so long, please,”

The words are slurred together as they tumble from your lips, infused with a potent lust that casts a dense haze over your mind, rendering you capable of only focusing on what you need.

Light eyes dart up, holding yours through fanned lashes for a moment, as if they’re searching for any hesitancy, before his lips form the most genuine smile he’s ever given you.

“Yeah?” he huffs out, finally breaking your stare to watch his hands undo his belt, continuing to speak as he shoves his jeans down his thighs and frees his cock. “You think you can take it?”

“Yes, nii-san,” you nearly mewl, gazing at him with blown, glazed eyes and a cute pout. “Please, give it to me, I-I want it, please,”

His gaze finally flicks up, that sincere smile stretched wider across his face, a playful glint in his eye, voice void of any of its usual derision. “You want what? Hmm, baby? Come on, nii-san wants to hear you say it,”

A low whimper leaves your throat and you shift on the countertop, as if trying to wiggle closer to him. “Your cock, nii-san, want your cock, please-please-please, gimme-gimme-gimme,”

It sounds as though you’re close to tears, voice cracking and thick with desire, Naoya’s cock twitching in his palm in response to the sound, and, God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, absolutely adores it when you beg, thinks you sound so pretty when you’re pleading for him.

“You’re a greedy little girl, you know that?” he pants while he pushes in, a muffled yelp prying past your lips. “Shh, hush now, nii-san will give you what you need,”

The stretch is incredible, cute little cunt throbbing around his thick cock as it struggles to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling as though he’s going to tear you into two, leaving stinging micro-fissures in the delicate flesh.

Yet despite the burn, the ache that settles deep in your core, that feels like he’s splitting you in half, a satisfied moan leaves your lips, head falling forward and resting against his broad shoulder, fingers curling in the cotton that adorns his torso and pulling him closer, closer, closer.

Because, finally, you feel whole, more whole than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, satisfying an inexplicable desire buried at the crux of your very soul, something you didn’t even realize you were missing until you finally had it.

“S’not enough,” you mumble into him, nuzzling your face against him like a cat. “Need more, nii-san, need more,”

“You really are a selfish little fucking brat,” he grunts as fingers flex on your hips, tips digging into the pliant flesh and gripping, singeing his name into your skin in rapidly blossoming indigo and ultramarine.

“Nii-san was going to try and be nice,” the words, strained and husky, spill from plush lips as his hips begin to thrust, slow and hard, winding back as they draw the force to ram forward, slamming a cry from your chest as his cockhead pounds against your cervix. “But you’re too impatient for that, aren’t you?”

It’s a fucking lie; his self-control had been hanging by a thread, barely restraining the primal need to wildly buck into you, but you just snapped it, just tore the last of his treasured discipline to fucking shreds with nothing more than a few words.

The pace is ruthless, your head bouncing off the cabinets with each powerful snap of his hips, an endless stream of cries pouring from your lips, one hand curling around the edge of the counter as the other grips his shoulder, nails burying themselves in the hard muscle through the thin cotton of his shirt. Sharp bones carve a spot just for him, made for him, between your legs, into the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he pants out, eyes so bright they’re practically glowing. “Mine.”

“Yours!” you gasp out, head nodding in sloppy little movements against his shoulder as you fall forward, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Yours, yours, yours,”

Everything feels hazy, almost dreamlike in a sense, vision blurring over with a thick shield of tears that you can’t quite explain, his name and the honorific becoming muddled on your tongue, fusing into one as you wail it out, clinging to him in a way that’s almost possessive.

“Nii-san’s here,” he promises you, voice hoarse. “Nii-san’s yours, too,”

“Mine,” the arms thrown around his neck tighten, fingers tangling in soft gold and wrinkled cotton. “Mine, mine, mine—”

“Mine,” he echoes, hips never faltering even as you wind your body around his, large hands keeping your hips still as he fucks into you. “And only mine—”  

“Forever and ever and ever—”

“You belong to me, were made for me, put on this earth for me,”

Words of confirmation are escaping from your lips, you’re absolutely sure of it, can feel them vibrating up your throat as you speak them—but it’s so much, too much, all of the feelings swirling around in your chest, sending spikes of pleasure and thorns of pain shooting through your veins as they clash together. A sudden wooziness settles over you, brain fogging over as he becomes the only thing you can think of, the only thing you want to think of, nonsensical babbling still slipping from between parted lips in hitched puffs of breath.

“So full,” you nearly sob, one of Naoya’s hands tangling in the hair at the back of your skull and yanking, pulling your face from the sanctuary of his neck and exposing your expressions to his scrutinizing eyes, devouring the beautiful tears streaking your cheeks, the contorting of your features as pleasure washes over them. “M’so full, nii-san, it’s so much,”

“Yeah? Better than he could ever stuff you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re wailing out, affirmations falling from your lips with each brutal piston of his hips. “More, need more,”

Because it’s like an addiction, an innate need for more of him, for all of him, ravenous and unquenchable, that’s always existed within you, that his cock stretching you out, filling you up, has only just awakened.

His aura is positively intoxicating, overwhelming your senses and becoming all you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell, taste, touch. His taste lingers on your tongue, faint notes of minty pine and sharp nicotine dancing with your tastebuds; his touch brands itself into you, bruises and bitemarks carving his name into soft skin; his scent assaults you, envelops you, overpowers everything else as it wraps you in a shackled embrace of expensive aftershave and cedar wood.

A growl tears from his chest, so rough that it vibrates throughout his entire body, and his pace quickens, cock plunging into you and an incredible speed, dragging against that one spot that has you nearly screaming, that has your eyes rolling back and your little hole fluttering around him as a blistering fire sparks to life in the pit of your belly.

You can feel it, furling in on itself with each vicious rut of his hips, each relentless bang of his cockhead against your cervix, a concentrated ball of scathing heat pulsing, quaking in your stomach as it curls tighter and tighter and tighter with each plunge forward—until it bursts, a fiery explosion that buzzes through your veins as your cunt clenches, gushing on his cock as he praises you—yeah, that’s it, make a mess on nii-san—entire body coiling from the sheer strength.

“Tell me,” he keens almost desperately, voice pulling you from the clutches of post-orgasm unconsciousness, hips stuttering for a moment before he regains his finesse. “Tell me how badly you need it,”

And you don’t need to be told what, pleads pouring from your mouth in an instant, before your brain can even comprehend what you’re saying, an instinctual reaction to his command. “Need your cum, nii-san, need you to full me up, fill my tummy with it, stuff me full of it, need it so bad, nii-san, please gimme your cum, please, please,”

The words are all jumbled together, thick with tears and wet with saliva and imbued with delirium, quivering and breaking as your body trembles from overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he chokes on the curse, hips stilling, pressed flush against your ass as his cock throbs, filling you with spurt after spurt of thick cum, a broken whine catching in his throat as endless words spill from yours, peppered with the sweetest moans—yes, nii-san, thank you, nii-san, fill me up, fill my body with it, my brain with it, I need it, I need it.

And he does, pumps you full of so much that it begins leaking out from your abused little hole—still stuffed with him—and down his cock.

And it’s then—after he has filled you up, with your precious little cunt still pulsing around his length, whimpering out his honorific as you hold onto him, voice raw and wrecked and cracking with residual tears—then that Naoya’s sure you were meant for him, made for him, perfectly tailored to him; he knows you were, his very own gift from the gods.